


Swinging on a Star

by KateThorne



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Human, Anal Sex, Cheating, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Frottage, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-17
Updated: 2013-10-24
Packaged: 2017-12-29 15:57:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1007298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KateThorne/pseuds/KateThorne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is getting ready to marry his college sweetheart, Castiel. On the night of his bachelor party, he has a one night stand with a stranger. Thinking he left that all behind him as the wedding approaches, Sam brings Castiel to meet his brother and his brother's excruciatingly familiar partner, Gabriel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Ah, c'mon" Sam pleaded as Kevin returned to his seat at the bar with his and Garth's coats. Garth had drank two whole beers and was getting pink in the face. He smiled a stupid, drunk smile and clapped Sam's shoulder in another farewell. Sam pressed, "What if we went to a straight bar? It isn't even last call. Please? It's my special night!"

"I know Sam, and I'm sorry." Kevin said, trying to wrestle one of Garth's arms into a sleeve while the other, slighter man giggled. "But Garth lives clear across town and I have that meeting tomorrow morning. You coming with us or cabbing it tonight?"

"Do the meeting hungover! You're young! And it's my special night!"

Kevin smiled and shook his head. "You already used that twice tonight. Once to get us into this bar and again to keep me this late. I love you, man, but I'm cutting you off the guilt trips. I got work and stuff, dude."

"You're making some lucky man super happy." Garth drunkenly quipped, smiling dizzily. He started to turn green.

"Hey!" the bartender barked, "Your friend is gonna puke? Outside or bathroom, man."

Kevin gave a wave of surrender in his direction and tentatively took Garth's forearm.

"Sam, I love you and I'm so happy for you both." Kevin said, giving Sam a one armed hug. He turned to Garth and grew a little pale. "Don't puke in my car. Please don't puke in my car."

They waved as they left and Sam sat alone. On his special night. Wanting to go anywhere besides home.

He supposed that was what he got for dragging his straight friends out to a gay bar to celebrate, but it was _his_ night. It wasn't the most flamboyant club Sam had ever been in. No go-go dancers in cages or shirtless men with glow-ring necklaces. Just a couple of guys in too tight tee-shirts and a couple of women, keeping to themselves and holding hands under the booth. He specifically chose some place a little more low-key just so that way friends like the older, grizzled and easily blushing Bobby would even walk in the door. But Sam might as well have gone some place louder, darker and with strobe lights and dry humping on the dance floor since everyone left before midnight anyway.

Because Sam wanted someplace too loud to be heard. He wanted someplace too crowded to feel alone. And he wanted someplace too dark to be held accountable for his actions. He made eye contact with the bartender.

"Another?" she asked, pointing to Sam's whiskey on the rocks.

"Yeah, and I think my friend forgot to close out his tab. Can I do that, please?"

The bartender poured his drink and disappeared towards the register. Sam felt eyes on him and fought to keep a straight face, though the attention was dripping down his spine. He smiled into his drink.

"Hey, no worries, someone else paid for your friend's tab. Tran, Kevin? That guy," she pointed with her chin down the bar, "took care of all your guys' drinks for the night."

Sam followed the bartender's gesture, meeting the unashamedly roaming gaze of a man about ten seats down. The guy gave a thin lipped smirk and raised his appletini with a wink.

"I recognize him. Used to come in here a lot more." she said, "He's an ok guy. If you were looking."

Sam thanked the her and got up with his drink moving towards the man with the smirk. He saw his eyes widen as he stood, and Sam let his body be feasted on by his stare. It was nice. Shallow, but nice to be wanted so openly. Sam had always used to like guys in bars who watched him.

He stood next to the appletini guy.

"I think me and my friends owe you a pretty big thanks." Sam said, leaning on the bar so that he could shift and let his hard earned pecs cast shadows of their own. The peacocking was not lost on the man, who smiled knowingly, even as he drank all Sam's rippling muscle in.

"Make it up to me." The man said. Sam raised one eyebrow and the other guy gestured to the barstool beside him, "Have a seat and a drink with me. Or keep moving like you just did and let me watch."

"Well, you get straight to the punch, don't you?"

"And you love it, don't you?"

Sam dropped to the barstool, making him eye level with the other guy. An older guy, with sweeping medium colored hair and sharp, yellow-brown eyes.

"I'm Sam."

"Richard."

"Well, Richard." Sam said, "On behalf of me and my buddies, thank you."

"Buddies left pretty quick, huh?" Richard asked. " Straight guys in a gay bar, must have had some pretty good leverage to get them in here in the first place." Richard's eyes darted to the top of Sam's head and he realized, with a blush, that he was still wearing the plastic pink tiara that his friends produced at the beginning of the night. "Birthday?"

"Ah, no." Sam said, sheepish now, "Bachelor party."

"Oh, congratulations." He said. "Lucky guy."

"Yeah. We're both lucky. He's great." Sam said. He didn't want to talk about Castiel tonight. He definitely didn't want to talk about Castiel to this guy.

"If you're getting married." Richard said, breaking his eyes from Sam and gesturing to the bartender, "You clearly need more shots."

"I've been telling people that all night." Sam said and Richard grinned.

"Six Purple Nurples." Richard said to the bartender. He glanced at Sam out of the corner of his eye and winked. He was too good at that. Made Sam feel sleazy and cheap and so, so hot.

"Trying to get me drunk?" Sam joked. Richard cracked a grin but was deadly serious as he leaned into Sam.

"You want me to get you drunk." He said, low and dangerous. Sam couldn't be help the tremor down his back. "And you want me to get you stupid. I'll give you what you want, you just have to be man enough to admit it. Don't even have to do it out loud."

Sam took a Purple Nurple and shot it back. Richard smirked and matched him. Richard's hand landed on his thigh, like a coiled snake, waiting to strike. It had been so long since Sam had a hand on him like that. Sam put a reached to his head to dislodge the tiara when the hand on his thigh gave a sudden, viper-like squeeze.

"Leave it." It was an order. Sam's cock twitched.

Two more shots and a whole other whiskey in, Sam was beaming and leaning into Richard. Sam had a hand on his thigh,now, higher than Richard's hand on his. He kneaded his fingers into the denim seam.

"I needed this." Sam confided in his new best friend. "I needed this so bad. I love him, but we never go out. Even when we were dating, you know? And, like, he doesn't drink. I mean, he doesn't _not_ drink, but like, he doesn't drink like we do. He just watches. He never pursues me. He's so beautiful and... and clean. And pure, you know? Classy and dignified and so absolutely stunning. He would never be here. He'd never do thi--" Sam realized he was rambling. About Cas. To the man who's hand was on his thigh. To the man who's thigh was under his hand. And he smelled so damn good. "Sorry. I'm drinking and all—I do love him." Sam concluded, but he was looking at his empty glass.

"You love him, but the things you loved about him are now, kind of the things that bother you." Richard said for him. Sam nodded. "You're not so special, kiddo. Happens to everyone."

"Have you ever been in love?" Sam asked with a level of sincerity that could only be explained by being officially drunk.

"Was once."

"What happened?"

"Nothing much. Woke up one morning and I stopped thinking the sun shined out his ass. It was just an ass. Hot ass. Nice ass. But just an ass, like everyone else's. He was a good guy. He is a good guy." Richard took a drink. "Wish it never changed. Guess it's natural."

"I'm sorry." Sam said.

"Listen." Richard said, something familiar and predatory in his gaze. "I can buy you another drink if that's what you need to go through with this, but I'll be clear with you since it's almost last call and you look like a once-in-a-lifetime-opportunity fuck."

The curse word snapped Sam's fuzzed attention back to Richard and his own cock fattening beneath the rigid zipper of his pants. Little Sam was _very_ interested in what Richard had to say, and liked the way that his mouth moved as he said it. Richard's hand slid up the seam of his pants and Sam's eyes rolled to the back of his head. There wasn't a tablecloth or any disguise at the bar to hide such a vulgar invitation. But it was late, and everyone else was paired off and huddled together a little too close, their hands in shadowy places.

Richard had a nice car, a Porsche from the 1970s without a backseat, but Sam had Castiel at home and a plan from the beginning of the night to take a cab, so he couldn't complain when Richard shoved him into the passenger side. The he turned on the radio and sped out of the lot like a bat out of Hell, driving towards anywhere. Richard needed his hands for steering and shifting but Sam's hands were free.

He reached over and cupped Richard's crotch. The older man groaned but made no other acknowledgement that he was getting fondled while he drove. Richard grew hard, fully hard so that Sam could trace the contours of his cock through his jeans. He was rubbing his thumb around the dampening spot at the head when he realized he was almost as stiff, in that small car with that strange man, driving them someplace where no one would see.

Sam moaned and dropped his hand to his own lap, squeezing himself through his pants.

"Take your cock out." Richard said, that low, commanding voice again. Sam trembled as he obeyed without hesitation, his half-hard dick spilling out of his pants. Sam stroked it twice before it was stiff enough to cut glass. Richard made a hungry sound in the back of his throat. "Fuck, yeah. That's gonna feel good inside of me." Sam whined, his hips bucking into air. He gripped his cock again. "Do. Not. Touch." he said from the driver's seat. Sam's breath hitched at the order. Even more so at his own willingness to do exactly as the older man said.

"God-." Sam hissed, slamming the hand not stroking Richard into the ceiling of the Porsche, just for something to do.

"-Has nothing to do with the things I want to do to you."

Sam whined again, but nodded.

It was an alleyway that they pulled into. Laundry hanging from the fire escape on one side of the building, a graffiti marred dumpster on the other, but Sam didn't even really see because Richard was opening his pants and Sam's mouth was watering.

"Put your lips on me." he whispered. Sam swooped in and pressed the other man's head back against the head rest as he kissed him.

Richard made a surprised sound before bringing his hands up to cup Sam's head, returning the kiss. Sam gasped because he needed to breathe but he didn't want to. Then the other man was opening his mouth and Sam licked into it, winning a full body jolt from the slighter form beneath him. Sam wrapped his fingers around Richard's newly freed cock, stroking it. He wanted this to last forever. He wanted this man and this car for eternity because after… after it would be just Castiel for the rest of his life. He loved Castiel.

But he sort of loved this too.

Sam felt a hand clutching at the back of his head and pushing him downwards. Sam grinned against his lips and let himself be guided to the hard cock in his hand.

The car was impossibly small. The shift gear was jabbing into his shoulder, but it wasn't so bad because it narrowed every ounce of Sam's focus to the man, writhing into his mouth, pulsing his hips up in shallow bursts. He could hear his breathing, thin and harsh. He could feel every one of the man's fingers in his hair, demanding and base and everything Sam needed.

The hand left his hair and started reaching behind him in the seat. Sam pulled his mouth off the beautifully flushed and spit shined sight of cock. Richard returned his attention to Sam, this time accompanied by a condom and bottle of lube. He pushed Sam back against the seat and began sliding his pants down. Sam couldn't seem to stop nodding.

Yes, yes to everything that was happening.

Stripped of his pants and going commando (Sam's raging cock throbbed in approval at the sight of that,) Richard climbed over the console and straddled Sam's lap, taking the lube in his hands and reaching behind himself.

"Fuck." Sam murmured. His hands up and under Richard's shirt.

The older man smiled at him, followed by a wince, then his eyes rolled to the back of his head. Sam couldn't tear his eyes away from Richard as he prepared himself. Every gasp of breath, every roll of his body made Sam surge in response.

Finally, Richard ripped the condom open, rolling it onto Sam in a motion that Sam could only describe as practiced. He took the moment to pull Richard's shirt off and the sight of the fully naked man in his lap was ingrained in his mind forever.

He sunk himself onto Sam's cock and Sam bit his lip to stop from crying out. He had never felt this kind of depth. Never this kind of wanton, half thought out coupling.

Then the other man started to move and Sam couldn't say that anymore.

They fucked.

There was simply no other word for the harsh, hard hands battling for purchase. No other way to describe the way that Sam's knees kept knocking the sides of the car, or the way that the naked skin felt through his clothing. Fucking hard and fast and seedy in the darkened car in the darkened alley.

Sam kissed him again, with little finesse, but the man accepted his tongue into his mouth as he took his cock in his ass. Sam moved his lips down his body to his hardened nipple, then back up to his neck without much thought or direction, just a need to taste as he felt. Sam bit down and he felt the man's dick throb against his stomach.

"No marks," he hissed. Sam nodded and went back to simply tasting him all over.

He was so close. Too close. Too soon. He didn't want this to end, didn't want the night to end because in two weeks…

"Coming. I'm going to come." Sam gasped.

He spread Richard's cheeks around his cock, holding the man still so that he could thrust into him. Richard could only brace his arms against the ceiling of the car so as to not knock his head as he rode the violent speed of Sam chasing his orgasm.

Forgetting what Richard had said earlier, forgetting everything except the fact that it was hot and tight and filthy and wrong, Sam bit into his shoulder as he spurted into the condom.

Richard sighed as he felt Sam spend inside of him, then started fisting his cock as Sam began to soften. Sam knocked Richard's hand away and picked up his pace, dirty and hard. The older man slammed his eyes shut then turned suddenly, grabbing his own shirt from the back of his seat where it landed when Sam stripped him and coming into it.

Sam felt jealous, for some reason. Robbed of that hot come marking his skin.

The man ran a hand through his hair as he dismounted Sam, barely even flinching as Sam's cock slid out of him. He followed Sam's eyes to his crumpled, come stained shirt.

"You can't go home with come on your shirt." He said.

"Oh. Right."

Richard started to get dressed beside him and Sam was suddenly numb as he put his cock away. Feeling dirty wasn't sexy anymore. He just felt… wrong.

Beside him, Richard was looking as Sam's bite mark on his shoulder, seeming mildly annoyed.

"Sorry. I forgot." Sam said softly. The man shrugged, but wrinkled his nose as he put his coat over his bare chest, zipping it up. Sam narrowed his eyes. "You can't go home with come on your shirt either." He realized flatly.

"You didn't ask."

"You're still with that guy." Sam concluded. He wanted to vomit a little bit. He didn't want to be in his skin anymore.

"Look, "the older man said, "It is what it is. A good time. You're… fuck, kiddo, you're something else. You don't do this often, do you?" Sam shook his head and the other guy smiled sadly. "It isn't a prophecy, alright? You fucked around once before you got married. It's natural. Doesn't mean you're going to fuck around once you actually are."

"Doesn't look good."

"It's normal. Get it out of your system, or whatever. Don't beat yourself up too much."

"That what you tell yourself before you go home to him?" Sam asked. He was being mean. A defense mechanism. Richard's eyes hardened but Sam pressed on because he was an asshole. He had always been an asshole. Castiel seemed to be the only one who didn't notice. "How long have you been with this guy?"

"A while." Richard allowed. He turned on the car and backed out of the space, uninterested in appeasing Sam's guilt any further. Sam couldn't really blame him.

They drove in silence for a few long minutes. The streets were empty. No one to see them and Sam's shame. No one besides Richard to know how horrible he really was.

"I do love him." Sam said softly. Richard looked at him out of the corner of his eye, bracing himself for another blow. When it didn't come, he exhaled loudly.

"You can love someone and need something else." Richard said. "You can fuck me. Hard. And still love him just as much as you did two hours ago."

"That's not the way I work." Sam muttered.

"I don't think you know the way you work."

That shut Sam up until they got back to the parking lot of the bar. It was empty. Only the employees remained, closing up.

"I'm getting married." Sam said. Richard snorted and Sam looked over to see his eyes on the stupid tiara that Sam had forgotten he was wearing. He had worn it while he…

Sam snatched it off his head. If he didn't finish the thought, it didn't count.

"I'm getting married." Sam said again. The tiara looked worse in his hand, where he could see it. "Everyone is so happy for us. Well…" Sam broke off. "I haven't told my family."

"Would they be ok with that?" Richard asked, more sympathy in his tone than Sam expected. Sam let out a dry laugh.

"No." Sam said, smiling and shaking his head. "But, not like you think. My brother's gay too. He just really hates marriage on principle. He'd never forgive me for going over to the dark side."

"You have a gay brother?"

"Yeah." Said Sam. "He's my only brother. And he's gay too. Isn't that weird?"

"It isn't as uncommon as you'd think." Richard said, in an oddly hollow voice. "You should tell your brother."

"Yeah." Sam said, looking out the window, picking absently at a loose rhinestone. "I will."

Sam saw a cab down the street, milling around, hunting for the last drunks to take home.

Richard patted Sam's thigh. Sam placed his hand over Richard's.

He got out of the car, hailing the taxi.

***

Gabriel drove home with the windows of his Porsche rolled all the way down, trying get the smell of sweat and latex and lube and Sam out of the leather seats. He absently touched his shoulder where the love bite sat, raw and red and accusing.

And hot and delicious and primal. He grazed his hand over his satisfied cock in his pants. Sam. Sam would be a good memory. It was all that Gabriel was looking for. He shouldn't still be feeling that churning, distracting feeling in his gut, like he had forgotten something important at work. Like he left something he needed behind.

He pulled into the garage, parking next to the gleaming trophy of a car taking up the right side. He dropped the shirt in the trash on his way in. He moved in the dark, through the bedroom to the attached bathroom. He brushed his teeth, washed his face, stripped his incriminating clothing.

He would shower in the morning. A shower, first thing when he got in late at night was downright confessing.

"Gabriel?"

"Hey, Dean. I didn't mean to wake you. Go back to bed."

"Was already up." His boyfriend said, turning on the bathroom light. Gabriel tried to not flinch. He pulled on a nearby tee as Dean blinked in the sudden brightness. Green eyes turned to his, squinted with sleep. "How was the party?"

"Good. Anna missed you." Gabriel lied easily. "She asked where you were, twice."

"Gah," Dean said, waving his hand in the air, dismissing the girl he kissed once before they started dating. "I'll catch the next one."

Dean had been saying that for years. He never went to the next one, the impromptu gatherings of Gabriel's little bar social set. It was the perfect excuse, all wrapped up in a pretty bow and left innocently at Gabriel's feet. Gabriel spat his mouthful of toothpaste and gave Dean a peck as he passed him on the way to bed.

"Sammy called." Dean said, suddenly from the bathroom. Gabriel didn't like how he was lit from behind where he couldn't read his face.

"How is your brother?" Gabriel asked without much interest, setting his alarm for the morning.

"He's getting married." Dean said.

"Oh." Gabriel's hand slipped, missing the button altogether.

"Like, really soon. To a dude."

"Well, if he's happy…"

"I didn't even know things were serious. He's been living with this guy. I didn't even know he was dating…" Dean came to the bed, dropping down on his side, taking up more than his fair share, as he always did. "He said he was afraid to tell me. Said I'd be mad. Said I'd be mad about him going to the dark side."

Gabriel's stomach dropped. He was lucky he didn't hurl four drinks and all the Sam he had tasted that night.

Sam, hot guy from the bar, was related to Dean, hot guy in his bed, and Gabriel's ass was still stretched from where his dick had been, like, an hour ago.

Things had just gotten so fucked up, they really couldn't get any worse.

But Gabriel should have known better than to say things like that by now.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam met Castiel in his French Enlightenment Literature class at Stanford.

Castiel sat in the row in front of him, head bent forward and dark hairs curling with a poetic sort of chaos around the nape of his pale neck. He was the only person in class without a laptop; he took notes in a small, moleskin notebook with thin, angled scratches. Castiel drank soy lattes from the independent coffee shop a block off campus. His name was always spelled differently on the cup.

_Castile._

_Kasstiel._

_Casteel._

One day in October, Castiel came to class with his name spelled correctly, and Sam felt a wholly unwarranted surge of jealousy as he thought of Castiel coaching a barista through his name. Looking at her. Smiling at her. It was a stupid thing to feel, but it bit like the cold air when he stepped outside; jolting him awake and aware, snapping every fiber of his skin.

On a Monday in November, everyone packed their bags to leave after class, but Castiel just stood and turned to Sam, watching him pack his bag patiently. Sam had never spoken to him, never even borrowed a pen, just watched from afar as the boy drank his misspelled coffee and wrote about Voltaire in his notebok. Sam didn't know anything about him besides the odd little cowlicks at the base of his hairline and the label of his coat.

"Sam Winchester." Castiel said simply, and Sam's heart was in his throat. Castiel knew who he was.

But then Sam looked up to see Castiel reading his name off of the essay they had been handed back at the beginning of the class.

"Yeah, it's Castiel, right?" Sam asked. Castiel simply nodded. The lecture hall was empty save for them, making their words seem louder and more important.

"Do you enjoy pizza?" Castiel asked suddenly.

Sam had been hit on before; giggling girls clustered around him at parties, gazing at him through coyly batted lashes. Even a couple of men at sports bars, leaning in to place their order and grazing his thigh with the backs of their hands, watching at him out of the corners of their eyes.

Castiel looked directly at him, like it never occurred to him to be ashamed.

"I feel you." He said plainly, stating a fact, not airing an annoyance and it was his tone that gave Sam a glimmer of very odd hope. "I feel your eyes on me. If I sat in a seat where it was easier, I think I'd enjoy looking at you as well. "

It was the most confusing, romantic thing Sam had ever heard.

So they got pizza.

***

Dean met Gabriel one year and two weeks after Sam left.

Generally speaking, Dean was a pretty fucking charming guy. He had friends he worked with, friends he ate with and friends he drank with. When the mood struck, Dean would go out to bars one town over and make a new sort of friend for the night.

It wasn't that Dean was in the closet, per se, he simply wasn't open about his dick sucking, ass fucking tendencies to his co-workers. Dean liked women just fine, but he liked men a little more.

He liked that he could go to a bar and get blown by a stranger in an alleyway without even buying him a drink. He liked that there were men who would put their ankles by their ears and only ask for a condom, not his name. Women were generally unhappy at being prepositioned for a quickie in the alleyway and the ones that weren't usually put Dean off a bit. It was a double standard, Dean realized, but he wasn't trying to change gender stereotypes here, he was just trying to get his dick wet. The right kind of men were usually happy to oblige, and he was always just as happy to oblige right back.

And the knowledge that Dean sometimes got on his knees would probably be less than comfortable at the auto shop where he worked with the sort of grease handed, blue collar types that drank Pabst and talked about women with the same sort of awe they afforded to a well-built car. So, Dean kept that part of himself to himself, figuring that it wasn't much people's business anyways.

The game-changer came in on a Friday at four thirty, either unaware or uncaring that every auto shop in the history of the world closed at five on the nose. He was a bossy little thing, marching into the shop with all the fury of a small hurricane. His shoes were too shiny, looking like Italian leather abominations against the honest and well worked floor, but Dean had never been gay enough to judge a man by his shoes.

Dean judged a man by his car.

It was a Jaguar. Piece of shit car that gleamed real pretty in red, but broke down at least three times a year. Whole fucking line of them were lemons, expensive, over the top, tacky as fuck lemons. Italian shoes tapped against the floor as the man explained everything the car had wrong, not waiting for Dean to tell him how he was going to fix it, just expecting him to.

No one else wanted to touch the thing the next morning. Jo had simply laughed when she came in, passing it and shaking her head as if wondering what her boss would think of next. Rufus snorted and walked away, but he had the seniority to do that sort of thing. Reggie and Walt were both too new for Dean to shove onto the temperamental car, and the no doubt equally volatile owner, which was how he found himself devoting an entire day to the thing, fumbling around shoddy tubing and wiring.

As he got behind the wheel to back the car out of the garage, his foot hit something round, shoved beneath the seat, oddly out of place in the gleaming spotless interior. Dean bent down, his hand meeting a small cardboard box along the way.

Lube. The expensive kind, and a box of condoms. Dean grinned to himself and tucked them back away like the dirty secrets that they were, laughing to himself the whole time.

Glancing around the parking lot, Dean took an index finger and rubbed it into the window.

The owner came back, barely listening as Dean ran down the list of problems and the things he did to fix them, checking his phone twice and seeming more agitated every time. He signed the sale slip without much thought and left, dialing a number as he went and puffing up as he went out of earshot.

The people Gabriel worked with were idiots. All of them.

He needed something, or someone, to take the edge off. He was in the mood for something butch, but he couldn't name where the craving came from.

He settled for a twink with some stubble and a flannel shirt. A true butch wouldn't have let him top anyway. The little guy, all dark hair and olive skin, biting the seat so pretty, was just what he needed. Gabriel lifted the boy's hips a bit in order to shove all the way into him and the kid let out a satisfying little squirm at the action.

He spent in the condom, rolling the boy onto his back so Gabriel could suck his dick when he glanced up at the fogged windows. On the driver's side, written neatly in the glass was _"In case you wanted a real ride. 913 446 6784. Dean."_

The boy didn't notice, but Gabriel was suddenly very interested in getting the kid off and gone, so he sucked his dick like he was born to do it. Shocked by his enthusiasm, the boy came fast and hard, clumsy hands through Gabriel's hair and leaving a shoe print on the door where he kicked out. Finally, the kid left. He was looking at Gabriel so sweetly that he thought the boy might propose on the spot. He was spared the uncomfortable rejection.

Gabriel laughed to himself again as he looked at Dean's number, fishing his cellphone out of the pocket of his pants which hadn't made it to the backseat.

"I'm not sure if I should be insulted or impressed." He said without preamble as Dean answered.

"I'm impressed that you found it so quickly. Six hours. Some sort of record."

"You do this often?" Gabriel asked, more curious than judgmental.

"No." Dean said simply. "But I think you could use a good fucking. You're probably set for tonight, though."

"Could always go again." Gabriel offered. He wasn't as young as he used to be, but he wasn't too old for this, thank god.

"Nah. You're going to need everything you've got when I make you come." Dean said lazily.

"Is that so?" Gabriel challenged.

"I know so." Dean mused, "So, who was on your menu tonight? I feel like he was nineteen and thin. I bet you fuck a lot of boys who look like models. Was he blonde?"

"Brunette. Tan. Slender. Twenty one, at least. Met him in a club."

"Hmmm." Dean said, and Gabriel heard him shifting, an expectancy sat in the air on the phone line. On instinct, he started kneading his spent cock. "Did he jerk you off in your car?"

"A little bit. Then I bent him over. Slutty little bottom, he was. All spread out on my back seat. It's roomier than you'd think. I could show you sometime."

Dean grunted into the receiver, bringing Gabriel's dick to attention.

"You must not remember me." Dean panted, "I'm no twink."

"Dean. From the auto shop. Green eyes, freckles and dick sucking lips. Six foot two? I think. And I'm guessing your father's class ring, from the year, on your right hand? I remember."

"Fuck, I guess you do. You look at everyone like that or were you checking me out?"

"I can tell a slutty little bottom when I see one."

Dean growled and panted, the silence on the line was hot with electricity.

"Tell me, Dean, as you're touching yourself, are you thinking of bending me over the hood of my car?" Dean made a sound of agreement, mixed between whines. Close. Gabriel could tell he was so close. "Or." He continued, sadistically, "Are you imagining me splitting you open on my cock in the back seat? I'd fuck you so deep, Dean. I'd shove your face into the seat and use you up. And you'd be begging me for more."

Dean hissed as he came

***

Castiel kissed with a sort of urgency that Sam had never known.

Pizza had gone well. Pizza had gone into a study session in Castiel's dorm room, which had become Castiel letting Sam press his lips against him, letting himself be guided beneath Sam, kissing him like he was afraid that Sam would disappear on him, slip away if Castiel didn't hold him tight.

Castiel's tongue flicked into his mouth, running behind his teeth, kissing the sides of his lips. In a monumental moment, Castiel's thighs fell to the sides and Sam was slotted between them. Sam rolled his hips against the boy, hard and slow, and Castiel's eyes opened in surprise while his mouth formed a perfect 'O' shape. Sam took a trembling hand and laid it lightly over Castiel's tented pants.

"Sam." Castiel whispered, "Wait. I'm not... I've never."

"I've never either." Sam replied, quickly, "I've never either. I mean, with a guy, I've never... Do you realize how beautiful you are?"

Castiel blushed, his blue eyes softening. Sam took the hand from Castiel's crotch and ran it through his hair, under his jaw and Castiel laid there so innocently with his knees to his sides, looking up at him like Sam was the beautiful one.

"We'll wait." Sam assured him. Castiel leaned up and kissed him again, hard and needy. Sam murmured, "God, you're so beautiful, I'm never letting you go."

Castiel moaned his agreement into Sam's mouth.

***

"Fuck, shit, damn, your lips _were_ put on this Earth to do that." Gabriel hissed as his arm was braced against the bathroom stall. On his knees, Dean hummed in agreement, wrenching another groan from Gabriel. "God, I can't even remember what your mouth looks like without a cock in it. I never will, either. Every time I see those lips, damn. Gonna remember doing this to you."

Dean pulled his lips off of Gabriel's cock with an obscene pop. He watched something dark flash through the older man's eyes and saw his hands twitch against the wall. Gabriel clearly wanted to yank his face right back to where it had been. Dean wanted to laugh.

They'd gotten to one beer at a painfully hetero sports bar. The waitress winked at Dean and Gabriel slid his expensive Italian shoe, soft as butter, up his pant leg under the table. Dean paid for his beer and left an embarrassingly large tip. Gabriel took him by the wrist to the bathroom, locking the door and guiding Dean down to his knees.

Dean went, happily.

He stroked Gabriel's cock again, pearling at the tip and purple with want. Gabriel took a handful of Dean's hair, pulling so hard that Dean could have come from it alone. Gabriel moved his hand from his hair, locking it behind Dean's neck and guiding his face back to his crotch.

Gabriel called him a beautiful cocksucking god as he came.

***

Dean had never been in another guy's house and he had never let a man into his own. He'd always had his affairs in the bathroom or the backseat of his car. But Gabriel came and Dean didn't want it to be over, which was how he found himself fumbling with the lock on his apartment as a small man mouthed at the back of his neck with one soft hand down the front of his shorts.

Once inside, the opening and closing of the door was lost to Dean's memory and dismissed as some sort of sex miracle. Gabriel seemed happy to collapse onto the couch and get down to business. But Dean had never had a man in his home, never had a woman either. No one had set foot in the front door for a year, and then they had been carrying casseroles and shoving their sympathies onto him, suffocating him with good intentions.

But the man trying to devour every inch of his skin in a hurry this night was refreshingly self interested, digging his cock into Dean's thigh in short, hurried thrusts. Dean felt himself being man handled onto the lumpy couch, held together with duct tape in certain places and ragged with crumbs of snacks long gone. Gabriel didn't seem to mind, bracing himself on the back of the couch and moving to straddle him.

"Whoa, wait." Dean said suddenly. Gabriel paused, looking incredibly annoyed at the interruption. "C'mon, bedroom."

Dean stood to his full hight, towering about five inches over Gabriel. Somehow he forgot that he was the bigger one, bold as the slighter man was. Taking his hand seemed awkwardly intimate, so Dean nodded over his shoulder, leading Gabriel to his darkened bedroom. He still hadn't been able to move into the master bedroom, even after a year. Gabriel took the small bed in stride.

The bed wasn't made and the sheets had been slept in for longer than most would tolerate, but Dean still had a hard time imagining another partner to share his bed with, even as he felt the hand on his back, shoving him forward onto the bed. He made to roll over but Gabriel caught his shoulder, keeping his chest on the mattress, letting Dean kick his pants off clumsily.

Dean lifted his head, "What the hell, man?"

"Your ass looks so nice and tight, baby. Gonna fuck you like this." Gabriel ran a hand under the swell of Dean's ass, making him shiver.

"Hey, dude. You _just_ came." Dean grumbled, definitely didn't whine. Dean couldn't see Gabriel's face, but he had the sensation that Gabriel was smirking at him. "I brought you here to fuck _your_ tight ass."

"Don't tell me that you don't want this ass stuffed full." Gabriel murmured. Dean heard a wet popping sound and the image of Gabriel sucking a finger into his mouth made him want to roll his cock into the mattress, just for some relief. The slick digit entered Dean without warning, making him arch his back, shoving his traitorous ass up for more. "Yeah. Look at that. You either let yourself get fucked a lot or you have a dildo."

Dean's eyes betrayed him, glancing to the bedside table.

"Hmm. Hope it vibrates. Next time. I don't want anything in here besides me, right now."

"Dude, if you think I'm letting you fuck me..."

"Doesn't the butch routine ever get old? I get it. You drink Bud and listen to Bob Seger. But I know you like getting it as much as giving it."

"Flip a coin." Dean snapped, turning his head. "Make it fair."

Gabriel laughed, but got off the bed. Dean heard him rooting through their pants, looking for a coin. He didn't turn over, invisibly pinned with his ass in the air, submitting already.

And getting off on it.

"Heads or tails?" Gabriel asked.

"Heads." There was silence for a minute, as Gabriel presumably flipped the coin.

"Coin toss is not your game." Gabriel sighed, getting back onto the bed behind him. "If you're a good little bitch, I'll give you head after you give me your tail."

"Just fuck me." Dean hissed, rising up on his knees so Gabriel could align, "And stop trying to be clever. You're only going to hurt yourself."

Gabriel never gave Dean head that night; Dean came untouched, with Gabriel inside of him, his own dick tickling the sheets as Gabriel fucked him.

***

In December, Sam bought Castiel a latte. They sat next to each other in class, now. They sat next to each other in the dining hall too. Everywhere Sam went, Castiel wasn't far behind.

He was quiet, more often than not, but Sam never forgot him.

He'd never met anyone like Cas, who had maybe said ten sentences since they started dating but spoke volumes in the way that he pursed his lips or cocked his head. Castiel truly listened, with a kind of unnerving focus, eyes narrowed like he was trying very hard to not miss a thing, as if everything Sam said mattered and would come up later. But what Cas did with the information, Sam would never know. Castiel didn't judge, but he had unspeakable faith in everything Sam touched. It was like Castiel was his own personal shadow cheerleader, and Sam could never think right when Castiel wasn't around.

Right before winter break, Castiel let Sam touch him. They started kissing as they usually did, then Cas was pulling his hand down, guiding Sam's palm to the place between his legs. Sam squeezed his cock and Castiel whimpered into his mouth.

Cas turned out to be a very passive lover, but not nearly as shy as Sam had expected him to be. Castiel was impossible to figure out. He was reserved, not shy. He was relentlessly optimistic, but not gullible. Castiel never left the house unless Sam took him, but he always had the feeling that Cas was teaching him about the world.

"Castiel, I love you." Sam murmured, his lips against Cas' collarbone and his hand on Cas' cock.

Castiel shifted away from him, pulling out of Sam's hand and looking at Sam, looking through Sam, perhaps.

Then Castiel stood up, taking his shirt off. He bent down and took his pants off after that, ultimately standing naked in front of Sam, as though it had never occurred to him to be ashamed. Sam took off his shirt, then waited for Castiel to nod before taking off his own pants.

Sam would never know anything as beautiful as Castiel in his arms, his hair knotted and flat against the pillow as he rocked against the mattress. Sam kissed whatever part he could reach; Cas' eye lids, Cas' mouth, the lobe of his ear, the bottom of his jaw constantly repeating his mantra, his prayer.

"I love you, Cas. I love you."


	3. Chapter 3

Gabriel's house was a much nicer place to hook up, Dean decided. Everything was red and shiny or black and leather, not Dean's taste but nothing Dean couldn't appreciate either.

Gabriel's sheets were silk, and Dean slid around on them when Gabriel pushed inside of him. The sheets caressed him like warm shallow water. Gabriel never offered such blatant displays of affection and Dean wouldn't have known what to do with them if he did so, the sheets were nice against his naked skin.

Gabriel also had the best snacks; cookies and cakes and Hostess treats in every tinfoil color of the rainbow.

They had a nice little routine; Dean would be working, minding his own business when his phone would light up with a text message.

Usually it was Gabriel telling him about how he was jerking off behind his desk, wishing he had Dean to bend over it. Dean would then reply that what Gabriel did on his company's time was his own business and Dean was NOT a bottom. For Gabriel, alone, would he be a switch and nothing at all of the old pervert kept harassing him. Dean would ignore his phone for a few hours, then come back to it to find an especially explicit text and, one time, a photo of Gabriel, his feet braced on his desk and the camera angled at his taint, with two fingers in his ass.

Dean would tell Gabriel to fuck off and Gabriel would say "gladly" with a winky face icon and Dean would get a little hot under the collar. Then, usually that night, Dean would show up at Gabriel's miniature palace and let himself be shoved into the wall, onto the kitchen counter, over the ottoman in the living room.

Dean didn't fuck Gabriel for quite a while. It wasn't that he always preferred to bottom, it was just that Gabriel was a very good top.

After they had their fill of each other and spent all they had to give, Dean would grab a snack from his kitchen and head on home, his own abode seeming increasingly shabby as his face was literally pressed into Gabriel's pristine furniture. Screwing Gabriel seemed to make Dean a lot less satisfied with many things in his life.

Dean used to be able to go a week or two without a fuck or a hand job in a bathroom stall, biding his time in his apartment, away from gay clubs and bars until he needed it. And even then, driving a town or two over so as to avoid seeing any familiar faces.

Gabriel's house was only a ten minute drive away, and it was just too easy to end up there, two or three times a week. And Gabriel always let him in when he showed up unannounced.

Dean used to like the old couch and the rabbit ears on his television set. Some of the furniture was as old as Sammy, it used to make him feel safe, like a rat in a nest.

But Gabriel had a flat screen and three hundred channels.

There were a lot of reasons Dean lived the way he did. It wasn't that he couldn't afford to buy new stuff, it was that he had a hard time letting stuff go. Sam called it unhealthy. Maybe it was, but Dean figured there were worse things in this world than being a little sentimental. But now, when Dean came home from Gabriel's house, he felt restless and trapped, a lion in a pen too small to pace. He was getting cabin fever from all the memories of his dead parents. It was an unsettling thought in just how little it unsettled him.

One night, after Gabriel took him on the floor of the hallway, Dean helped himself to a Zebra Cake and began to mosey on out when he heard Gabriel turn on the TV in the living room.

"You haven't watched the season finale of Dr. Sexy?" Dean asked, reading Gabriel's Tivo over his shoulder. Gabriel only glanced up at him.

"No, so fill your cake hole. I was working that night." Gabriel warned.

"It's a good one," Dean taunted, playing with the zipper on his coat.

"You spoil it for me? I'll hurt you."

"Big talk for someone who doesn't know how Dr. Piccolo confronted-"

"Shut up!" Gabriel hissed, lodging a couch cushion at Dean. He looked over at Dean, pathetically holding his coat. Dean didn't even admit to himself that he was waiting for an invitation until Gabriel turned back to the TV. "Bring the box and sit down, then. No spoilers, asshat."

***

Sam liked to place his hands over Castiel's chest and press his forehead into the curve of the back of Cas' spine after they made love.

And, really, with the kind of full, trusting faith Castiel had in his arms when they were together, it was nothing besides the most intimate expression of … well, love.

Sam had been in love before. A blonde girl he met in freshman orientation. The kind that made him laugh and listened to all his stories, even if he told the same one twice. Jess was... sweet. And she baked. She did everything she was supposed to do, but Sam still watched the back of Castiel, still kissed the boy senseless on the floor of his dorm room. It never even bothered him much that Castiel didn't say it back right away. Castiel never looked at anyone besides Sam, and Sam never heard Castiel speak to anyone the way he spoke to Sam, lying in the dark, entwined.

"I'm going to away, for Easter vacation." Castiel said one night. Sam hugged him tighter. He liked the way Cas talked, hoarse and deep, like he only used his voice to say things to Sam.

"Must be nice." Sam murmured into his hairline.

"Gabriel is paying for me." Cas said, "Gabriel is my brother."

"Yeah, you've mentioned him." Sam said, finding that his finger fit quite well in a raven ringlet. "Cas, why don't you have any pictures of your family?"

"I didn't take many... after I left." Cas said. "In case Gabriel and my names aren't clear enough, our family was quite religious. Our mother died giving birth to me, the youngest of ten. My father ruled with something of an iron fist and my elder brothers were like his secret police, all of us at each other's throats, waiting for one to mess up. Maybe to get our father's attention. With so many of us, parental attention was a rare commodity. Gabriel was the first to leave, he's bisexual. Michael, the oldest, found a skin magazine under his bed. Black men dressed as women, with their skirts pulled high, showing their panties. He told Gabriel that he had to either go to a homosexuality treatment center or leave before he corrupted the rest of us. Gabriel was the third, sixteen years older than I was. He left when I was thirteen.

"It's odd, he never seemed to notice me much. My sisters, Naomi and Ester, took care of us younger children. Sixteen years is a big age gap, as you can imagine and Gabriel never had a great deal of interest in bridging that. He and Lucifer were the closest. They always did their own thing and when Lucifer sided with Michael, Gabriel seemed... so aloof. He must have been devastated but he made a joke about it. Michael and Lucifer never agreed on anything besides deciding to stop loving Gabriel at the same time. He thought that was hilarious.

"He left the magazines in my closet. I was only thirteen but... he knew. And it would have been much scarier if he hadn't done that. I would have felt so alone, against so many, but Gabriel gave me his magazines and it was like... solidarity. He touched himself to the same things I was touching myself to. I'm sure it sounds quite disturbing, but it was like he was assuring me that it was ok to feel the things I felt. I wasn't alone."

Castiel grew quiet again. And Sam held him close, running his hand over Castiel's thigh, breathing into his neck like he wanted to crawl inside of Castiel and make him feel sure he'd never be alone again.

"I left when I was nineteen. I knew what I was and I knew what they did to fags like me. I don't know how Gabriel found out that I was in L.A. but I was staying in a homeless shelter for teens like me when a check came. It was from Gabriel, one of those novelty checks with a drag queen on it. They laughed at the bank, thought it was a cute joke. Maybe it was. But it was ten thousand dollars. Enough for a couple years of school. I didn't have anything else to do, so I went to school. It was always paid for. Gabriel always paid for it all."

"What did he say?" Sam asked, "When he saw you again. What did you guys say?"

"Oh, I haven't seen him since I was thirteen." Castiel said. "Just checks in the mail, tickets to vacations he pays for but never joins me on. One time, on the memo line of a check, he told me to buck up and be a brave little gay soldier."

"He hasn't called you? How does he know where to send money and tuition and-"

Castiel cut him off with a shrug.

"I'm not sure, but I think Gabriel only knows how to love from very far away. Once burned, and all."

"What about you?" Sam asked.

Castiel was quiet before he took Sam's hands from his chest and kissed them both. He rolled in Sam's arms, tickling Sam with his hair as he turned. Castiel smelled like organic shampoo without parabens or animal testing. He tasted like heaven, or whatever heaven was supposed to be, cool like mountain air and soft as clouds.

How could anyone let Castiel go?

"Do you think I'm beautiful?" Castiel asked him.

Sam nodded quickly, hurridely and without a minute of hesitation. Castiel was the most beautiful thing in Sam's life.

"Do you love me?" Castiel asked.

Sam never stopped nodding.

"I love you, Sam." Castiel said, kissing Sam's mouth.

***

It happened gradually, which was probably why it never occurred to Dean to panic.

Dean fell asleep on Gabriel's couch when one episode of Dr. Sexy turned into a marathon. He and Gabriel were also pretty drunk, so he would always insist that he passed out rather than snuggled into the cushions and fell asleep.

But there was a moment of clarity, when Gabriel was sprawled across the couch with his head thrown back and his mouth open that Dean realized he'd never seen Gabriel like that so... vulnerable. Without a sneer or a smart comment, unable to make every moderately real conversation into dirty talk. Once again, Dean was struck with how small Gabriel was.

Dean didn't dare pity Gabriel, but his big empty house full of distractions, reminded Dean of a very over grown child in his fantasy play house. All alone.

And Dean's house was just a shrine to the father he never really understood. Sam called it denial. Sam was really into labeling the things that were wrong with Dean. Dean was defensive because he had low self esteem. Dean over-compensated his masculinity because even after the man was dead, Dean couldn't disappoint his father by being a fairy. Dean was a hoarder. Dean was an alcoholic. They were all little diagnoses that could be cured and maybe that was why Sam did it. Everything and everyone could be cured.

But Dean wasn't in denial. He knew what he was, the only thing was that he didn't care for a cure. Maybe it was laziness, maybe it was pure cowardice. It didn't need a name if it all came out the same in the end.

So Dean closed his eyes enough to pass for sleeping, staring through slits as he stretched on the couch, gently placing his feet in Gabriel's lap with all the slow guile of innocent slumber. Gabriel didn't wake, just shifted and eventually dropped his hands to lay over Dean's ankles.

No one had ever held Dean as he slept, not even like this. He always figured he was too damaged for that. Maybe all he had needed the whole time was someone who was just as damaged right back.

After a few weeks of innocently passing out on the couch, Gabriel eventually hauled Dean back to his bed.

Gabriel was notorious for being insatiable and Dean prided himself on always being able to pull one out for a lover in need, but when Dean wrapped his arms around Gabriel and started rocking against him, Gabriel made a small, pleased, sound but never got stiff.

Dean pulled away, ready to slide down Gabriel's body and put his mouth to use when Gabriel caught his shoulder. He just shook his head.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"Dean, I already came twice since you got here. You're fine it's just... late. And I'm not as young a used to be."

"Oh, alright." Dean said. He tried not to sound hurt but thought he maybe just ended up being twice as pathetic for trying to hide it.

"You've been drinking. I'm not letting you drive home." Gabriel said. He was on his side, away from Dean, charging his cell phone.

"What?" Dean asked. He only had three beers. Usually Gabriel didn't notice, or at least didn't mention it.

"I know you drank too much, so sleep it off." Gabriel said, punching his pillow into shape and rolling pointedly to the side, leaving half of the big red bed for Dean.

Dean didn't say anything, just toed off his boots and climbed in. It took two, tentative tries before he placed his arm over Gabriel's shoulder. Gabriel leaned back so that Dean was spooning him and they fell asleep like that, two men, curled together with all the tentative touches of virgin lovers.

It happened again the next night, but that time, no one pretended Dean was drunk. Gabriel was facing the wall and Dean was resting his hand on Gabriel's hip, keeping him looking away. Then Dean started talking.

"I'm thinking about moving."

Gabriel twitched under Dean's hand, but Dean didn't let Gabriel turn over and face him. Dean always felt less sure of himself when Gabriel was looking directly at him; those eyes were too dark and too mean sometimes. Even after all this time- about four weeks but an freaking era in Dean's book- Dean sometimes felt like Gabriel was about to laugh at him. So he told it to Gabriel's back and shoulders, so much smaller than Dean ever remembers them being.

"I still live at home, the house I grew up in. I used to live with my Dad there. He was pretty sick for a while. He's dead, now." Dean spoke flatly. The words didn't hurt coming out, they were just facts about his life. His entire life. Everything he was, and he figured that someone should hear them. "He died about eight months ago. All his stuff is still there. Hell, I don't think he replaced any of the furniture since my mom passed twenty years ago.

"You know, when I was a kid I just... I couldn't imagine being anyone besides him. He worked in a mechanic shop, I work in a mechanic shop. He drank, I drink. He was always so noble about everything. And he always did what was right, even if it was ugly. And he got real sick, cancer, and he didn't want treatment. Said it'd only buy him a few months. A few long, bloody, sickly, chemo filled months and he was ready to die. I think he's been ready to die since my Mom.

"I got angry at first, cause he said, 'What is there to do in three, maybe four months?' he said, 'Everything I wanted to accomplish I did. Everything I needed to say has been said. I'm done, boy.' and then we got fried chicken on the way home. I guess that's just what you eat when you are ready to die."

Dean's voice started getting heavy, so he took a deep breath. Gabriel pulled his hand from his hip and held it over his heart silent solidarity. Exactly what Dean needed.

"Took him to a hospice after that. He, ah, he didn't make the month. He told me not to visit him after work one day. It was a long drive and I'd been everyday since and it was the first time I'd ever been in that house all alone and I wasn't sleeping so he told me to just get some rest. He'd see me tomorrow. They called me that night and told me he passed." Dean let out a painful exhale that pressed through the hairs on Gabriel's neck, making Dean realize that he had moved closer to him, held the smaller man tighter to his chest. Dean wasn't unnerved or trapped or awkward like he usually was when lovers (okay, women) insisted on being held. But Gabriel was very still and patient. Dean would think he was asleep if it wasn't for the thumb running along the back of his hand, giving him comfort in small, inch long brushes.

"I don't know what I would say to him, maybe he did say everything that mattered. That he loved me. He was proud of me. He only said that last one once, when I got my job, but it was enough. I just... miss him. I don't remember what we used to do together, I think it was mostly beer and TV, but... he's my dad and now he's... gone.

"I think that the house and the things kept him from being too lonely. Or at least from being the kind of urgent lonely that demands action. It was kind of like she was still there, in the walls she painted and the furniture she chose once, twenty years ago. The house made him strong.

"I guess I'm just not as strong as he was."

"You're not weak. He had you." Gabriel said to the wall, "He wasn't alone. He had you. Who do you have?"

***

"All I have is Dean" Sam told Castiel, lying on the bed and staring at the ceiling. "My dad passed my first year of college and my Mom died before I was a year old, I don't even remember her. Dean does. A little. He was only four, and the memories are really scattered. He pretends he remembers her perfectly, like the way she smiled and the way she talked, but I was four once too and I don't remember it that vividly. I think most of his memories are made up. Dad never got rid of her things, he just lived in that house that was stuck in 1983. And he made us live there with him."

"How did he die?" Castiel asked, leaning his weight on his arm so he could look down at Sam and stroke his chin length hair.

"Cancer." Sam said, his eyes watering. Castiel leaned down and kissed him, wiping the tears off his cheeks. "He, ah, he was sick for a while but none of us knew. He knew probably years before he told us. I was at Stanford and Dean, my brother, called me and told me to come down. It was bad.

"And I just... cancer, you know? And he wasn't even that old, forty eight. I just... it didn't seem real to me. Dad never called me. Dean did. My dad told me that if I left, then I should just stay gone because there were perfectly good schools in Kansas and if I left for four years I might as well leave for twenty." Sam shook his head, "He was so much more sensitive than anyone gave him credit for, but it was always in the worst way. Maybe it was the cancer talking. He wanted us to respect him like he was dying but he never got around to saying it until the very end. That's how he was about everything. If you fought, he'd... he'd die before he apologized and that's... that's exactly what happened."

"Sam," Castiel breathed into his hair. "Sam,"

And Sam curled into him, pulling his long limbs into his body to fit better against Castiel's.

"Dean was so close to hating me. Dean is too needy to really hate anyone, though. I mean, all growing up, it's like Dad couldn't think or talk or exist outside that house, that museum to this woman who never even seemed real to me. But Dean was the one who taught me how to fight bullies and how to talk to girls and how to be... gay. Just like Gabriel, I guess. I realized that I was looking at boys at least as much as I was looking at girls and I told Dean, because... I had never kept a secret from Dean before. He taught me how to cruise safely and he told me about which lubes I could use with which condoms. And when I thought I might be straight, he taught me how to talk to girls.

"Dean was more than a parent he was... everything. I would be so lost without him."

"He's lucky to have you, Sam." Castiel promised.

"I'm lucky to have you." Sam said.

***

It was a particularly exhausting day at work, yelling at imbeciles and threatening to fire three people.

The trick of Gabriel's job wasn't that it was particularly hard; really just moving numbers from one column to another and saying something when the numbers looked a little too big or too small to be a casual variance. No, Gabriel got the big bucks because after a few years of it, someone in a suit decided that he was 'management material' based on his higher than average stress tolerance and the fact that he rarely got too chummy with his coworkers.

Everyone in his office was just looking at numbers, not really conceiving what they meant. And, in a large way, the numbers didn't mean anything to anyone working in a cubicle. Just the investments of rich white men getting larger, turning 17 million dollars into 17.25 million dollars didn't strike anyone as a terribly important matter. It was Gabriel's job to remind people that if they didn't do as he said and bend over backwards to please the powers that be, Gabriel and the men he worked for would find people who would.

Essentially, he spent ten hours a day breathing down the necks of twenty people who hated him for the benefit of five people who perhaps tolerated him, at best. He was poorly liked, only grudgingly respected and easily replaceable.

But he got a nice paycheck and he lived in a nice house full of all the earthly pleasures his family had looked down upon as he grew up. Cabinets full of gluttony, an Xbox for his sloth, a butch built boyfriend on silk sheets for lust and a shining green Jaguar in the garage for a little dash of vanity.

Gabriel had never been liked, even when he was the one in the cubicle. He was too hard and too mean, not possessing a filter between things said in jest and things said in anger, letting the two swirl together like pungent smoke, driving everyone around him away, gasping for clean, gentle air. People had always spoke behind his back, so what did he care now? At least he got paid for being hated.

"Becky, get away from the window unless you intend to jump out of it." Gabriel barked as he rounded the corner into his office.

His assistant turned pink and stepped away, but easily brushed off his comment. Becky was either too pathetic or too hard skinned to let Gabriel's malicious throwaway statements get under her skin. That was why she had lasted so long.

She rushed to bring him his messages as he stepped into his office. He sighed as he looked up from the papers she put on his desk to see her peering out the window, yet again.

"What? Are there two men making out in the street? What is so damn fascinating outside?"

Gabriel had discovered Becky's bizarre fascination with gay porn about four days after HR shoved her behind his reception desk. She had been writing, what she called 'fan fiction' but what he called 'trite, melodramatic filth with cocks.' She was writing a scene between two men in a book series she was fond of, brothers, sucking each other's cocks. She was proofreading her post about incestual sixty-nine as she sipped her chai tea from a mug with a cat on it.

He had fired people for less, but she was only apologetic for doing something personal at work, not ashamed of what it was that she was doing. That made Gabriel weirdly proud of his crazy-spinster-in-the-making assistant. She did her work, didn't get teary when he said something brusque and generally kept to herself, so she was everything that Gabriel could ask of the one person in the office that had to actually interact with him on an hourly basis.

Gabriel was out at work only because it would be harder to not be.

It endeared people to him for a while and when word got around that he was kicked out of his house because of it, the heavy sympathy of his coworkers was getting hard to wade through on his way to the copy room. The only thing that Gabriel tolerated less than open dislike was pity. Luckily he only had to be himself for people to lose interest. Once people figured out that he wasn't going to snap his fingers and give sassy fashion advice, people went back to simply avoiding him.

After placing the notes on Gabriel's desk, Becky was back to looking out the window with that sort of earnest enthusiasm that Gabriel had to dedicate months to building an endurance for.

"This message from Zachariah," Gabriel said, "Was that before or after the email from... Becky, please pretend to be professional."

"Don't be angry." Becky said suddenly. Gabriel instantly was. "But I might have seen you out a couple times. You go to that bar on tenth street, sometimes, right? The Chateau?"

"Are you really going to gay bars to get your weird fix? Please, just get high speed internet. I'll recommend you for a raise if you promise me that is what you'll use it for."

"Well, I've sort of seen you there, with your partner? Boyfriend?"

"Dean." Gabriel muttered, looking back down at the papers on his desk.

"Well, it was dark and all, but I think he might be in the parking lot." Becky said, "He's really cute, with a military jacket and-"

Gabriel pushed her to the side to look out. Dean was looking up at the office building, craning his neck and squinting as if he'd be able to find Gabriel's office from the window. Dean had never visited Gabriel at work before. No one had ever visited Gabriel at work before.

Gabriel pulled out his cellphone.

"What are you doing?" he simply asked.

"Ah, I guess you know I'm here," Dean suddenly sounded unsure. For a moment, the first one in a long time, Gabriel wished he was the kind of man who could be nice without thinking. A kind of man like Dean. "I'm sorry, I didn't think that you might be busy. I'll, ah, I'll just go back to the shop and see you at hom- at your house tonight. If you're still on. For... dinner."

Dean had slept at Gabriel's house for three weeks now, pretending to look for another place, pretending it was too late, or he was too drunk to drive home.

One night Gabriel went downstairs to turn off the lights in the kitchen when he saw Dean's coat on the back of a chair. He hung it up, and it seemed to decide something. Dean's clothes went on hangers. Hangers went in closets. Dean's clothes belonged in closets. Dean's clothes belonged in his house. Dean belonged there.

That was how they communicated this thing they had and now that it was shoved into the forefront of verbal communication, Dean was back peddling as fast as he could.

"I was going to take a break anyway." Gabriel lied. He glared at Becky as she silently jumped up and down, clapping her hands in excitement for the kinky gay sex she must have assumed was going to go down. "I'll come to you."

"Oh, ok." Dean said before Gabriel hung up.

Gabriel got down to the ground floor, raising his eyebrows expectantly at Dean. The taller man reached forward to take his hand, but seemed to change his mind halfway and ended up using his thumb to point over his shoulder.

The car that Dean led him to was hugely unimpressive. It was an old thing, grey and weather beaten into submission. The passenger door was a completely different color than the rest of the body, an offensive yellow on a formerly silver body. The upholstery was felt and worn thin on the bottom of the seats. It seemed perpetually dusty.

Gabriel just looked back up at Dean.

"I bought this." Dean said, uncertainly.

"For...parts?" Gabriel asked, running a hand over the tarnished hood.

"No, for you."

"Why?" he asked, forgetting to lace his voice with sarcasm and coming out genuinely confused.

"'Cause, ok, I know it doesn't look like much now, but look. Right there. It's a Porsche. A classic. And, I mean, she needs to be buffed out, maybe a little oil, obviously a paint job. I got her for a song and I'll make her real pretty. The owner practically gave her away, he had no idea what he had here. And.. I thought of you."

"Dean, I have a car."

"We've talked about it, that thing does not count as a car." Dean said, rolling his eyes, "When the guys at work find out that you're driving a Jaguar, they'll laugh me out of the shop."

"It gets me to work and it gets me home." Gabriel said.

"Most of the time," Dean mumbled, obviously hurt by Gabriel's lack of emotion.

"Why would you do this for me?"

"I just.. wanted to." Dean said. "I just really liked this car and I was really excited and I wanted to share that with you. I'll take it back. Sell it or whatever I'd just... rather give it to you."

"Why?"

"Because..." Dean started. "Never mind, it was stupid."

"I love it." Gabriel said suddenly. "I want it. Thank... you."

If Gabriel was the kind of man that could love, the one with an actual heart where something metallic was in his own chest, he might have kissed Dean for the open, shy smile the man gave him.

Gabriel wondered how long it would last.

***

Castiel had long accepted the idea that no one would understand him. It was a lonely thought, but easily soothed by the knowledge that he didn't really understand anyone else either.

Sam teased him, saying that he spoke like a textbook, but the teasing had no bite behind it, and Sam never got annoyed with Castiel's idiosyncrasies. He was the first and so Castiel loved him.

Castiel had also come to peace with the idea that he was not a sexual creature; at least not in practice.

He had sexual fantasies and urges but he rarely touched himself down there. When he was younger, he had more urgency and less shame but as he grew, he realized that everyone he knew was much more interested in kissing and being kissed, touching and being touched. It wasn't that Castiel was a prude, though many thought that of him. It was the simpler answer, so he let it be, but truly, Castiel often lost interest in his own flesh. The feel of his own hands and fingers was mundane and Castiel preferred to lose himself in his own mind; the hot mouths and demanding hands of his imagination felt more real than his own. Stroking his cock just reminded him of the lonely act of masturbation while the men in his head fucked and made love to him, exactly the way he wanted.

Castiel never imagined there might be a man who could take him as he wished to be taken, nor could he think of a way to explain his desires to another. Communication had never been easy for Castiel, he often felt that he had learned human interaction as a second language; he was overly schooled in the grammar and structure of the relationships, but spoke and acted slowly and with an awkward accent. Everyone he knew was fluent in flirting and joking, making friends and making lovers.

So, Castiel was often alone, even amongst his family and especially amongst strangers. But it wasn't so bad because he had the men in his mind to keep him company.

Then there was Sam.

Sam was not the first to ever call Castiel beautiful. He knew that his eyes were attractively large and his face was more symmetrical than average. He had a detached sort of personality that certain types found appealing, though Castiel attributed that to the idea that people most often wanted exactly what they couldn't have. But Sam didn't seem like that, so Castiel turned to him and asked him out. Over pizza, Sam blurted that he had been wanting Castiel since he first laid eyes on him and then blushed and looked away. He seemed very young, though he had to be Castiel's age.

Sam laughed a lot, with cute dimples on the sides of his face. He took up too much space and he blotted his pizza with a napkin, grinning shamefully when he caught Castiel staring. Knowing when to look away had never been something Castiel instinctually knew to do.

"Sorry," Sam said, "I read that you can cut, like, a hundred calories of fat out of pizza if you blot off the grease. I bet... I bet you think I'm a total weirdo freak."

Sam seemed to lose steam by the minute, blushing and throwing the accusatory napkin away, turning his attention back down to his slice. A 'weirdo freak.' Finally, words to describe what Castiel had felt inside himself his whole life. And a perfectly loveable boy, who smiled and laughed and knew when to look away had used those words to describe himself.

After a moment, Castiel took a napkin and dabbed the oil off of his pizza as well.

That night, Castiel let Sam kiss him and it was like someone had finally woken up inside him. He could feel the kiss, he could want the kiss and when Sam eased his weight onto him, guiding him onto his back on the floor, Castiel forgot the men in his head.

Suddenly, for once, it was someone touching him, someone wanting him. But, more than that, it was Castiel, finally coming down to the earth after a lifetime of watching from afar, realizing that he had wanted to be wanted the entire time.

***

Dean opened the pizza box onto Gabriel's coffee table, helping himself to a slice of meat-lovers. Gabriel sat on the ground, his head leaning against the couch and his arm slung over Dean's knees. In Gabriel's lap sat the box of cinnamon sticks with six extra cups of frosting.

It was a reality show that Gabriel followed, Dean only watched grudgingly. He still wasn't sure if Gabriel preferred the bodies of the drag queens, some sort of feminization kink that he hadn't tried out on Dean, or if he simply liked the gaudy pageantry of Ru Paul's Drag Race. Knowing Gabriel, Dean thought that it really could easily be either.

Chewing his pizza, Dean started watching Gabriel watch the TV and realized that he _did_ know Gabriel.

He knew that Gabriel was really just a child playing pretend. His nights were spent playing video games until one in the morning, binging on junk food and watching reality TV focused towards twenty something women rather than almost forty year old men. Gabriel required a lot of attention, usually in the most unbecoming ways. Gabriel demanded respect but was often quite surprised if he actually got it.

He got mean if you got too close to hurting his feelings.

He got quiet if you actually did.

Gabriel always had dessert first. He needed at least six cups of icing to eat, essentially cinnamon dough, as though all the sweet sugar would cancel out all his sour attitude and cover up some pretty unsettling bitterness. He never said anything about Dean's drinking or self-esteem. He didn't try to fix Dean, so Dean didn't try to fix him.

A commercial for Dr. Sexy came on and Gabriel made a whoop of approval. They had once made a game out of it, objectifying any man, and the occasional woman, who graced the screen of the television.

'I'd bite the backs of his thighs.' Gabriel once said of an eighteen year old Abercrombie model coming out of a lake to a popular hit song on the radio. 'I'd eat that pussy 'till my jaw fell off,' Dean countered to a sitcom actress, not to be outdone. They'd clink their beers and have a good laugh. But they hadn't played that game in a while.

Dr. Sexy shoved Dr. Piccolo against the wall of an elevator. Gabriel looked around the floor for a missing cup of icing.

"I'm not fucking anyone else." Dean said suddenly. Gabriel just turned around and looked at him, a hand suspended in the air, looking for his cup of sugar goo. "It doesn't have to mean anything. I'm not asking for anything to change but I'm not screwing around with anyone else. And I thought you should know."

"Ok..." Gabriel said slowly.

"You don't have to tell me if you are-"

"I'm not either."

"Right." They fell back into the silence. Turning back to the TV.

 _"Ladies, it's time to lip sync...for your life."_ Ru Paul purred.

Gabriel turned and climbed into the couch, straddling Dean and pressing his lips to Dean's cheek, to Dean's neck, to Dean's lips and they didn't kiss, they made out; necking and dry humping with the sort of sloppy abandon of teenagers.

 _"Good luck,"_ Ru said, _"And don't fuck it up."_

Gabriel's hand was in his shorts,on his cock, hot and tight. Dean grabbed shoved everything out of the way and wrapped his hands around his. They started jerking together furiously, their speeds weren't in anything close to sync and Dean had certainly given and received better hand jobs, many of which were from Gabriel himself. The problem was that they couldn't get enough space to get any real velocity or grip, too much bulk and sweaty mass between them to be good.

But Dean couldn't seem to stop kissing Gabriel, eventually they just started panting into each other's mouths, hot and humid and kind of gross considering what they'd been eating. But they came within minutes of each other and when Gabriel collapsed against Dean, he had the insane urge to hold Gabriel there for the rest of his life, with the TV in the back ground and the sugar putrid on Gabriel's tongue.

Gabriel lazily ran his hands through Dean's hair, kissing his neck and letting himself be held.

_"Shante, you stay."_


	4. Chapter 4

Gabriel sat on the couch with his legs tucked underneath him, watching Dean bustle around the kitchen and living room with a sort of frenzied chaos.

The counter sat half wiped, the carpet was vacuumed but the vacuum itself sat proudly in the living room. Odds and Ends gathered from the kitchen sat on the couch, next to Gabriel, where Dean dropped them when he realized he needed to take the pie out of the oven. The day had been spent like that, projects started and half finished whenever Dean remembered something else he had to do. He kept glancing at Gabriel nervously, and opening his mouth dumbly before snapping it closed and turning away. 

"Dean, have a beer, light a cigarette and chill the fuck out, seriously. It's your brother. You don't have to be perfect for him."

"Don't smoke in front of Sam," Dean said distractedly, abandoning his table setting in favor of sweeping and missing Gabriel's point entirely. "He's kind of a health nut. He'll probably say something and who knows what his boyfriend will be like. Probably just like Sam, real smart and proper. Shit."

"I don't even smoke, Dean, please calm down before you give me an ulcer."

"Well, you could help, you know."

"I tried and you said some very mean things about my Swiffering technique."

"Damn it, Gabriel."

"Look, it's going to be ok. Nothing bad can happen tonight. Meeting the brother is much less scary than meeting the parents."

"Your sense of humor raises it's ugly head in the worst situations." Dean said, freezing and facing him with his hands on his hips. Gabriel might have giggled if Dean wasn't so much bigger than him.

"But it worked."

Gabriel took the broom from Dean and started sweeping where Dean left off. Dean watched for a minute before he went back to placing the dishes on the table, working in companionable silence. Though Dean kept looking nervous.

An hour later, the doorbell rang. Dean froze where he was standing in the kitchen.

"Sam doesn't know about you." Dean said suddenly.

"Um, what?"

"Sam... doesn't know that we're dating. Living together. Whatever."

"Whose house does he think this is?"

"Mine. I mean, I told him that I was thinking about selling Dad's house and he was so supportive that when I told him I moved out he didn't ask any questions and... I'm sorry."

"It's ok."

"Really?"

"Well, no, it's weird. You what, it isn't a big deal, I'm going to go then and avoid... this."

"Wait, Gabriel, I'm sorry." Dean pleaded. "Please, stay."

"I'd really rather go-" Gabriel said, taking his opportunity to bolt as soon as it presented itself.

"I need you. Ok? I need you tonight. Right now. I need a friend in this. What if Sam is more like Stanford now? What if I don't even know what to say to them? You can't leave me alone with them."

"He's your brother, you'll figure it out." Gabriel was trying to twist away from Dean who was holding fast.

"What if we don't?" Dean asked. "I need you here. With me, don't leave me right now."

The magic words.

Gabriel grudgingly froze and made a face that Dean would have called a grimace. So he and Gabriel went to the door, resigned and nervous.

"Sam." Dean said as he opened the door, pulling his taller, younger brother into a hug.

"Dean." Sam said, closing his eyes and clapping his brother on the shoulder.

"Castiel?" Gabriel asked, looking around the tall Winchesters.

"Gabriel?" Castiel asked, furrowing his brow. Sam angled his head lower and met Gabriel's eyes.

"Gabriel?" Sam repeated, thinly. He looked between Dean and Gabriel again before Dean shrugged.

"Castiel?" Dean said, leaning forward and catching Castiel's hand in his own. "It's nice to meet you."

***

The four stood in the doorway, before Dean stepped aside, leading Castiel in like a good host. Sam followed and he kept fighting the urge to look over his shoulder at Gabriel.

Not Richard from that one bar that one time. Not that hot fuck, that oat that he sowed, that mistake that he made, safely in the past. No, it was Gabriel, suddenly promoting himself from a dirty little secret to an actual problem and Sam felt like the floor was suddenly gone.

"So, uh, Castiel." Dean said as he led them all to the dining room. "You've met Gabriel?"

"You could say that." Castiel said. Gabriel winked at him.

"Whoa, _Gabriel_?" Sam said again, looking now between Cas and that guy who bought him a drink and rode his cock in a vintage porsche.

"My name is a little old fashioned," Gabriel smirked, "But it isn't so complicated to get right. You said it properly the first time."

Dean openly glared at Gabriel who took a deep sigh and placed a hand over Castiel's wrist.

"Who knew that, in Kansas, a set of gay brothers find a matching pair?"

***

Dinner was not an easy affair, Dean and Sam trying their best to keep the conversation going, even as large lulls kept on popping up and becoming harder and harder to ignore. Sam seemed distracted, nervous, perhaps, sitting beside Castiel and constantly checking up on him.

And Dean couldn't really blame him, Castiel had the general aura of something foreign and inherently out of place. He was pale with dark hair and bright blue eyes that he kept open and, virtually unblinking, as he turned his penetrating gaze on everyone around him. Sam and Gabriel, supposedly used to this, didn't seem bothered but Dean always felt himself looking away.

Perhaps Sam was nervous on behalf of Castiel, but that didn't seem right. Castiel was too intense to be fragile.

"So, ah, the wedding." Dean started once he and Sam had exhausted the weather, the how-we-met and the how the Cheifs were doing this season. Sam cleared his throat and nodded, looking at the table.

"Yes." It was Castiel who spoke, short and gravelled.

"How's that going for you?" Dean asked after an elaborate pause.

"Very well, thank you." Castiel said. Dean kept waiting, but nothing more came.

"Excuse me, Dean. Cas." Sam said suddenly scooting away from the table. "I think I left something... in the car."

Castiel turned his gaze, thankfully, off Dean and up to his fiancee. Sam rubbed his shoulder and shook his head, not needing any help. Gabriel checked his phone, then gestured to Dean with it. Dean nodded, and Gabriel left the room, staring at his screen.

And then there were two, though the suffocation stillness could count as a third if Dean tried. After a moment, Dean stood and started collecting plates, heading towards the kitchen. When he turned around, Castiel was behind him, holding more dishes.

"Oh, uh, you don't have to-" Dean started.

"I wish to have something to do with my hands." Castiel interjected. "I believe that, as the host, it is your job to ensure my happiness"

Was that a joke? Could Castiel-ice-king-Novak manage to make a joke?

"Oh, um, alright." Dean said, standing aside as Castiel put the last of the dishes in the sink, then started to fill it with soap water. Castiel washed a dish, then held it expectantly out to Dean, who took a towel from the rack and dried it.

"I'm sorry if I'm not making a very good impression." Castiel said abruptly. Dean wondered if Sam ever got used to such jarring, honest statements with virtually no warning. "I very much wanted you to like me. Sam was quite nervous when he saw you, I know he wants you to like me as well."

"Well, hey, man." Dean started, awkwardly, "Look, anyone who makes Sam as happy as you do is welcome here."

"I have your approval of my significance to Sam." Castiel said, "But... I wanted you to like me. As a person. I wanted to be your friend."

"No, seriously, anyone who makes Sam feel happy is my fr-"

"I'm sorry." Castiel interrupted, turning from the sink to level his full, discomfiting gaze upon Dean. "I'm sorry that I've put you in this position where you feel you must say nice things. I'm sorry that I've made you uncomfortable. I will marry Sam but I wanted you to like me apart from his relevance.

"You are a noble man, Dean. Sam has told me stories of you, many, many stories. You protected him and fought for him. Sam is a special man, and I think you have a lot to do with that. But you were a child as well and you were strong in a way I hope to be. I know what I am. I know how I am and I've never much cared what people thought of me. I suppose that is part of the problem, but I care quite a bit about what you think of me."

"Hey, Cas." Dean said, "You, uh, you got the wrong idea. I'm not strong or... noble. Just ask Gabriel, ask him how we met. I'm not great, or anything. You know, Sam's so smart, the kid kind of raised himself. He's a lot more moral than I am, believe me. You got a good one there, but I didn't have as much to do with it as you think."

"It takes a brave child to try and glue together the pieces of a broken family." Castiel said softly, "I know about Sam and your father. I know about your mother. I wonder if I know you better from Sam's stories than you know yourself. So often, you're his hero."

Dean snorted.

"Look, Cas, don't go around calling anyone, especially not me, a hero. I mean, don't get caught up in the way people are supposed to be, don't worship people who are just... people. I'm just a guy, Cas."

"I think you are very much more." Cas said simply and turned back to the dishes. He handed one to Dean and Dean took it, finally looking away from Castiel and putting it in the cabinet.

***

Gabriel got about three steps outside the front door before the big hand of Sam Winchester grabbed him by the arm and dragged him around the side of the house, away from the glow of the floodlights.

" _Gabriel_?" Sam hissed and Gabriel could really only make out a dark, large outline towering over him. But Gabriel wasn't one to be easily frightened, so his disdainfully looked up at his brother's fiancée. He hoped Sam could see just how little Gabriel was going to humor his temper.

"Sam. Winchester."

"You gave me a fake name." he hissed. "You lied to me that night and... tonight. And all those other times. Jesus, who are you?"

"Yeah, dummy, I live in this town. You think I give my real name when I go trolling for cock?"

"Because you're fucking around on my brother and you don't want him to find out."

"Oh, please, this is not about Dean. It totally fucking should be. A decent brother would be devastated at how much he hurt him. But. Not. You. You just don't want me to fuck up your wedding and make anyone mad at you. Well," Gabriel made a frustrated gesture, "Fine. Dirty little secrets are going to stay in the ground on my end."

"You weren't surprised enough." Sam said, even as he started relaxing his shoulders, "You knew who I was."

"Yeah. After. When Dean told me you called. There are a lot of Sams in this world. Not so many with a gay brother who is getting married." Gabriel scratched his arm and looked away, "Dean has a bunch of pictures of you, but you aren't older than twelve in any of them. And how was I supposed to know you'd be in a bar in Kansas? You were supposed to be in California."

"Yeah, we were... house hunting. I wasn't going to tell Dean until I was sure...How often do you screw around on Dean? Honestly? I mean... he's never had a boyfriend."

"That you know of." Gabriel said, Crossing his arms and looking back towards the house, "For brothers who claim to be as close as you are, you sure keep a lot of secrets."

"Well, Dean is..."

"I know how Dean is." Gabriel cut him off. "Maybe better than you do. And I know how you are, maybe better than Dean does."

"You don't know me."

"I know that you're not sorry you cheated, only very sorry that you might get caught. I know that you'll never tell a soul if I don't cause the only thing you're really faithful to is yourself. I know about Jess, too. That little overlap? You were going home with my brother before you broke up with her. I cheat because I'm horny and I feel trapped and I need someone else's face to come on. I'm no angel, Sam. But I don't pretend to be. You loved Jess. Now you love Castiel. Who will you love next? And the son of a bitch after that? You... you cheat with too much of your heart."

"What? As a professional cheater, are you telling me that I'm going to get hurt? Cheating with people I actually care about, listening to what is right in my heart and not just in my pants?"

"I sincerely don't give a fuck about you at all. But you will damage Castiel one day and what then? He's the best thing that will ever happen to you. He might be the only person who doesn't see you as the self entitled little brat that you are. Little Sammy _deserves_ to go to a fancy college. He _deserves_ the unconditional love of his brother and his husband. _Deserves_ to fuck whoever he wants and not get called out on it. Wake up, the world doesn't owe you jack, kiddo. Castiel certainly doesn't, he is just too young to know it yet."

"And yet, you'll never tell him." Sam sneered, "Because you send him money and you fuck his boyfriend. Cas told me about you, he loves you, he fucking worships you and he makes all these excuses about how you're sad and broken and you can only love from every far away without any phone calls or christmas cards. He has no idea that you're just a petty child with a bank account."

"Don't you ever try to presume what I am, Sam." Gabriel growled, acid dripping from his usually dry tone.

Sam stepped forward, touching his chest to Gabriel's. He waited a beat as the older man glared fire up at him. He reached forward and undid the top button of Gabriel's shirt. When Gabriel didn't punch him or ask him what the fuck he thought he was doing, Sam undid the second button.

It was pretty clear what they were doing.

Gabriel reached forward and started undoing Sam's buttons for him, resolution searing in his eyes and then Sam's hands grabbed hot flesh, exposed to the dark. Gabriel ran his hands down Sam's back, gripping and pinching the flesh he found, leaning forward to mouth at Sam's neck.

One of them slipped a leg between the other's, it was unclear who, in the haze of selfish hands. There was too much of a height difference to get any real friction, so Sam started pushing Gabriel down on his back, onto the thankfully dry grass, following him so that he was pitched above him and finally getting some traction to shove against him.

"Fucking look at you." he hissed, his words blurring together in the heat of it all, mean and sloppy, making a point as much as getting off. Gabriel just lay back, waiting for Sam to do whatever it was he was going to do, a knowing, unafraid look in his eye. "I hate you."

Sam plunged in, kissing Gabriel fiercely, using as much teeth as he did tongue, punishing him, punishing them both.

And rocking against him, his cock notched against Gabriel's, still both in their pants. Gabriel's hand slipped down Sam's spine, beneath his waist band, his middle finger rubbing against his hole. Sam broke the kiss, but only to tell Gabriel to fucking do it already.

"I hate you so goddamn much," Sam keened through hot, labored breath, fucking his cock dryly between Gabriel's thighs and fucking his own ass harder against Gabriel's fingers inside of him. "I hate you."

Gabriel just laughed.

"You hate me with all your heart."

***

Castiel and Sam left to check into a hotel down the block, Dean insisted they stay, but it was all a charade that wore too thin. Sam was still nervous, looking at Castiel too often, wringing his hands and darting his eyes. Dean looked exhausted by the end of the night, being the only one who was even trying to make small talk. Gabriel didn't pretend to like people he didn't like and he didn't pretend to have fun he wasn't. It was a principle, more than anything.

"So, Castiel is nice." Dean said as he started collecting trash from the kitchen counter. Gabriel gave a non-committal grunt. Dean waited a beat, "Would you like to talk about it?"

"Talk about what?" Gabriel asked, not looking up.

"Your little brother, whom you haven't seen for a while, getting married? The fact that you didn't know? The fact that you might have never known?"

"Not particularly." Gabriel said. He turned and headed upstairs to his and Dean's bedroom.

"Ok, then." Dean said, but Gabriel didn't pretend he had to talk about things he didn't want to talk about.

***

Gabriel stepped into the shower as he got upstairs.

_Fucking look at you_ said Sam's voice, ringing in his head and sounding like Lucifer when he least expected it. He used Dean's shampoo without thinking, his was always almost empty anyways, he just left the empty bottle on the shelf instead of throwing it away. It drove Dean crazy.

_Fucking look at you._

Gabriel pulled a piece of grass from his hair, and even as the water washed away the smell, he could feel Sam's breath, his cock, his weight shoving him into the dirt like he belonged there.

That time, he knew Sam. Sam knew him, their brothers, their lovers were just a door away and they fucked around on the grass, playing with their entire ruin for the thrill of it.

_Fucking look at you._

It was in his own voice that time, and Gabriel wondered how much longer he could keep this up.

***

Dean was sitting on their bed when he got out of the shower.

"Hey," Gabriel said, over his shoulder and he slipped into his underwear. "Look, Dean, about tonight-"

Dean threw something red at him; he caught it on instinct, though he lost all feeling in his extremities as he noticed what it was.

A red shirt. That had been filled with his come. As Sam's cock softened inside of him.

"It doesn't smell like you." Dean said flatly. "It smells like sweat and latex and some other fucking guy. Say something, before I..."

"Before you what?" Gabriel asked, throwing the shirt into the hamper, pretending that his hands weren't shaking. "Are you going to hit me?"

"The fuck, Gabriel? Are you so damn unhappy with me? Do you realize how stupid I feel right now?"

"Yes." Gabriel said lowly. He turned his back to Dean and started to pull on a pair of jeans. "It feels like you're stumbling, doesn't it? Stumbling around and everyone can see but no one is helping you. I know how it feels, Dean."

Dean ran a hand over his face.

"Is that what this is about? Punishing me for that? It happened so effing long ago. It was before we were even..."

"You told me you weren't screwing around with anyone." Gabriel snapped, pointing an accusing finger at Dean. "You said that it was only me and I said it was only you and then you fucked a woman over some weekend long trip to California. I thought we were... when _you_ were the one who made it sound like... You made it sound like you only wanted me and then you came home from your visit and told me about her. And I just felt so stupid... I didn't care until you _said_ it. Fricken put it in my head, then blindsided me."

"I can't believe you would bring up Jess, you know how much that fucked with my head. You know how much I regretted doing that." Dean hissed. "Plus, I told you, and I apologized, again and again. And I'll do it some more because that shit still eats me up inside."

"Well," Gabriel shrugged, "If you needed to screw your baby brother's girlfriend to feel like a big strong man after you take it like my bitch, then fine. Don't stand there and pretend that Jess didn't have _everything_ to do with Sam."

"Quit turning this on me, you ass. You think I don't know that shit? This is about you lying and this about you being just _such a dick_."

"I've never pretended to be something I'm not." Gabriel said, buttoning his shirt. "I made no promises. I can't say the same for you."

"You're so full of shit, you know that? You made a promise. We fucking live together. That's a promise, even if we didn't take vows." Dean said, "I know I'm fucked up, ok? But I never did anything to hurt you. I'm not _mean_ Gabriel."

"Quit being such a girl, Dean."

"Get out." Dean barked. Gabriel finally looked at him, eyes widened like he'd been sucker punched.

"Excuse you?"

"You haven't even apologized once, Gabriel. You're not just damaged you're actually, physically, truly cruel and even I don't hate myself enough to let you sit there and be... you."

"Ah, just a strong, independent woman." Gabriel sneered.

"Out," Dean said, shaking his head a biting smile on his lips. "Just, get out."

"Why didn't Sam know about me, Dean?" Gabriel asked, crossing his arms over his chest, "We've lived together and he never knew who I was to you. I'm not the only one, Dean. You fucked up too."

"It's complicated..."

"The truly hilarious thing, Dean-o, is that it's not. It must sound so much nicer in your head when you say it's complicated. It's not. It's so simple that it's pathetic. You don't love me. 

Your coworkers don't know about me either. What were you going to do, Dean? Spend your whole life in the closet?"

"Look, I was going to tell them--"

"When you knew it was real. You'll come out when it's official. To your coworkers and to your brother, you'd tell them when it was real. And this, here? It isn't. You didn't think it was, or you'd have told your _brother_. You'd have told _someone_ you work with, someone you see everyday and spend forty hours a week with. You don't love me, Dean. When you imagine a future, the one with the best version of yourself, I'm not there. You don't love me.

It isn't that you just can't say it or that you have too many walls or some therapist crap like that. It's that you don't love me. You like me. You like my house. You don't fuck around anymore, but it is because you're comfortable. Nothing more, so stop acting so betrayed. I've inconvenienced you, at most."

"I can't do this anymore, Gabriel." Dean said, sighing "I just. I used to think I might have loved you a little bit, for a while, actually. But you'll never believe me if I ever say it, will you? If I ever said it. I certainly don't love... whatever you are... anymore. I'm done. It's over, I'm out."

"Because I messed up, once?" Gabriel asked, rolling his eyes, "Because for once, ever, I called you on your gratuitous shit?"

"Because you won't fucking admit that you made a mistake! I could forgive cheating, I really could, what kind of hypocrite would I be if I couldn't say that, but c'mon, Gabriel. This is... do you care about me at all? Do you even want to live in this house with me at all?"

"No." said Gabriel.

He didn't know if it was a lie or the truth himself, but he knew it would hurt and that was why he said it. His whole world was burning to the ground around him, and what kind of man was Gabriel Novak that he only felt relief?

"Just, leave, Gabriel. You can't even hurt me anymore."

That was the thing that stuck in his gut, making his eyes burn and bile of panic rise in his throat. The idea that he couldn't even hurt Dean, the only thing he had any hope of being good at in the first place.

"It was with Sam, by the way." Gabriel said, "I didn't know it was him, but I met him in a bar and I let him fuck me and it was so good, Dean. Your baby brother sucks cock so good, better than you."

Dean went pale and Gabriel instantly regretted it. But Gabriel never apologized, even when he meant it.

"Get out." Dean said, crumpling inward and falling onto the bed. "Get out, get OUT, _getoutgetoutgetout._ "

And so Gabriel left. He didn't have to keep it up anymore.

He cried in the car, but Dean would never see, so it was practically like it never happened.

***

Castiel was brushing his teeth when his phone rang on the bedside table. Castiel turned and pointed to his toothpaste foamed mouth, so Sam answered the unknown caller.

"Castiel's phone, Sam speaking."

_"Are you fucking kidding me?"_

"Oh, uh, Gabriel?" Sam asked, glancing at Castiel. Cas spit out his toothpaste as he heard Gabriel's name.

"Good on you, ten points." Gabriel said, contemptuously over the line, "I need to talk to my brother."

Sam passed Cas the phone and the man sat down next to him, placing a gentle hand on Sam's thigh, squeezing it as Sam tried to get up and give them privacy. His own palms were sweaty, so he sat on them before Castiel could notice.

"Oh, Gabriel," Castiel sighed, "I... where are you going tonight? Do you want to come... here?"

Castiel peeked at Sam.

"I understand, you'll call if you need-" Castiel said, but then his face fell and he looked at the the receiver in his hand.

"Dean and Gabriel broke up." Cas said.

"Oh..."

"It must be serious because... well, Gabriel called me. He's never done that before." Cas said, He looked over at Sam, sitting on the bed cross legged. "Perhaps you should call your own brother, see how he is doing."

"Yeah," said Sam, pulling out his phone, but as he illuminated the screen, he saw he had a text message from his brother.

_If you don't tell Cas, I won't be at your wedding._


	5. Chapter 5

The door knocked three times, two fast, one slow. Just like it had always been.

"Hey, Sammy." Dean said flatly, opening it without looking. Sam braced himself on the threshold.

"Look, Dean, if you're going to hit me... just do it now, ok? Don't make me sit here and wait for it."

"'m not gonna hit you." Dean said, turning back into the hall, leaving the door open.

"Really?" Sam sounded skeptical.

"Yeah, really." Dean sighed, leading Sam to the kitchen where his open beer was waiting. He opened the fridge and got a second.

"Do you... want to talk about it?"

"About what? About the fact that the first guy I ever loved was fucking around on me?" Dean tried for a sneer, but it turned to a grimace halfway. "Or about the fact that he was fucking around with you?"

"I didn't know Dean." Sam pleaded, "I had no idea that he was your boyfriend. I had no idea that you _had_ a boyfriend."

"Yeah. That's funny, right? I mean... I thought we told each other everything. I always figured... you're everything I got, you know? And you never even told me that you were serious with anyone."

"You didn't tell me either, Dean."

"Didn't want to jinx it." Dean pulled his mouth into another tight smile, "Don't know how that happened. At first he was just a guy I was fucking, we'd hook up and I'd go home and I didn't tell you 'cause you always got so bitchy about 'too much information.' Then I was sleeping over here and I never mentioned it 'cause I didn't know how long it'd last. Only thing worse than a dedicated bachelor was being half of a failed relationship, right. Then, somehow, I was living here and... it's funny how easy it is, day by day, to not tell someone something. Guess it didn't make a difference anyway."

"I swear, Dean." Sam said softly, "I didn't know."

"But you knew that Castiel loved you, right? You knew and you just... did it."

"What do you want from me, Dean? Want me to go back in time? It just happened and I'm not exactly proud."

"I don't know why I'm surprised. I mean... you're not a nice person. I forget that, sometimes."

"Hey," Sam said, all his hurt right out in the open.

"I mean, I love you, and all. I love you just the way you are, and you aren't mean... but... you always think of yourself first. And you always do what you want and apologize later. And you're self righteous. And you're stubborn. You always have been. I just... forgot."

"That's what everyone is like." Sam rolled his eyes, "Everyone puts themselves first. Everyone is selfish, it's human nature."

"No, Sam." Dean shook his head, "That's just you. That's just how people like you think. I mean, this isn't even the first time. You went away to Stanford-"

"Are you fucking serious with this again?" Sam snapped. Sam was always the first one to snap. Dean had forgotten that one too. "I had a full ride to an Ivy League school and you're mad at me for doing what was best for my future?"

"I needed you then. Stanford wasn't going anywhere and Dad was sick. And you left. Dad died and you were on a plane that first night and that was the worst night of my life. I _needed_ you."

"Don't throw Dad in my fucking face, Dean." Sam said, his eyes watering, "The last thing he ever said to me was to never come back. He said if I left, to never come back. I was on a plane, Dean. I was the one who had to go through security and board my flight and sit with a bunch of strangers and act like a normal human being. Dad died and I wasn't there. It wasn't exactly a picnic for me either, Dean. He said 'don't come back' Dean. What was I supposed to do?"

"You weren't supposed to leave. It takes two to make it some stupid, macho showdown. He was dying and you left us both here alone with the cancer. Even after I called." Dean cocked his beer before taking a long, hard swallow.

"And you're such a saint? I'm sorry that I was eighteen, once. But what about Jess. Huh, Dean? She called me, you know. Probably about ten minutes after you zipped up." Sam accused suddenly, grabbing for whatever moral high ground he could reach, just like he always had. "You knew that I loved her. And three days after we broke up... You were supposed to be there for _me_. You don't just accidentally screw your younger brother's girlfriend. His first girlfriend. I didn't know it was Gabriel. I didn't what Gabriel was to you. But you did. So don't you look down your nose at me, Dean."

"Yeah, three days after you broke up? Which was, what, four days after you and Castiel? I did the effing math, Sam. You cheated on Jess with Cas. And then you cheated on Cas. And you loved him. You loved her. You say you love me and you left... the people you love seem to be the ones who get treated the worst."

"Fine. You win, Dean." Sam mumbled, falling back into his seat, shoulders slumping up around his ears, "You always win."

Dean was silent for a minute as he took a long drink.

"Maybe that's why." Dean said, thoughtfully "Maybe that's why I didn't tell you about Gabriel. Cause... I didn't know you anymore. Dad died and I was out here in Kansas, high and dry. Never thought I'd be alone, Sam. Never thought you'd let me be alone when it mattered. Sometimes I feel like I still don't quite get you. How can I talk to you everyday and still forget stuff like that?"

"Why don't we have any pictures together, you and me? How come all of our pictures are from when I was a kid? I don't want us to be like that." Sam muttered. "Dean, is that the last time you felt close to me? When I was a kid?." Dean shrugged.

"You were never going to tell me, were you?"

"About Cas?"

"No, about Gabriel. After you figured out it was him... you still weren't going to tell me"

"No." Sam said with a wrinkled brow, "Who would do that?"

"I would have."

"Well, Jesus, Dean. Sorry I'm not as noble as you are. I'm sorry that I'm a poor excuse for a brother and I never have your back. I'm sorry that I fuck up and I'm sorry that you are stuck with me. Is that what you wanted to hear?" Sam started picking at the label of his full beer. He looked so very young to Dean, all of the sudden. Like the last kid picked in gym class. Like the kid sitting alone at lunch in the cafeteria.

And Sam had been all those things. The little runt used to follow Dean all over the place, walked and talked like him. But Sam was too little and too sweet to be the swaggering big-guy-on campus. So he got a bunch of books and dedicated his life to something that wasn't a constant reminder of the person he wasn't. He didn't fit in with Dean and their father, so he decided to be someone else entirely. Sounded real good on paper, but Sam, more than anyone else, never seemed to fit in. 

Now, little Sammy, all grown up and still as lost and vulnerable as ever. Forever in fear of being the one left behind, it was so much more embarrassing than being the one doing the leaving. Little left-behind-Sammy, all grown up and finally old enough to be doing the leaving. Little Sammy, too big to be so insecure. 

Sam. Dean's flawed little family, through and through.

"No, Sam. I'm not like Dad. Don't want to be right that bad"

"So, we can be brothers again?" Sam asked.

"We never stopped being brothers, Sammy." Dean said. He let his eyes fall off of Sam and onto the wooden table they sat at. There was still a scratch on the wood. Gabriel had held his hands there as he was inside him, out on his back legs spread like a woman.

Gabriel kissed his collar bone, after. They had never been a very kiss-y couple. Dean could count on one hand the times that he and Gabriel shared breath, shared that sort of intimacy. He had always chalked it up to a 'Gabriel-thing.' He had the sudden, insane urge to ask Sam if Gabriel kissed him. If Gabriel just wasn't that kind of guy or if he just wasn't that kind of guy with _Dean._

But the moment passed. And maybe that thought would, someday, too.

"Give it time." Dean added. Sam gave a curt nod before standing awkwardly to leave. Dean cleared his throat. "Well, at least finish your beer."

"Really?"

"Otherwise, it's just a waste." Dean said. "Sit down, Sam. Stay for a little while."

Sam sat. And Sam stayed.

***

Castiel pulled up to building. It was dark, still, even the cleaning crews had gone home and there were still four hours before anyone would start showing up for work.

One single light shone from the second to top floor.

"Gabriel? It's Cas. I'm in the parking lot, I think you need to buzz me in." Cas said over the receiver. The door was unlocked before Cas even needed to try it.

He found Gabriel in his office with a bottle of whiskey and a bag of gummy worms from a vending machine. Gabriel rolled his eyes as Castiel came into his office.

"Sit down, please." he said, and Castiel realized that he was standing and staring over him. Castiel did sit, but Gabriel's expression seemed to imply that it was only a moderate improvement.

Gabriel's hair was different than it was when he was a teenager. He had used to keep it in a standard military high and tight like the rest of the Novaks. Now it sat lank around his chin. Castiel realized that he never really knew what color Gabriel's hair had been before, and now it was a sort of goldish brown, so different from Castiel's own.

"Cas, I'm going to have to ask you to act like anyone besides yourself for about ten minutes." Gabriel said dryly, taking a swig right from the bottle. Castiel tried to force his shoulders to relax. He didn't think it worked very well.

"You look like Mom. Did you know that?" Gabriel asked suddenly. 

"Yes." Castiel said. Gabriel looked surprised. "When I went to college, I looked up their wedding records on the school database and it had a picture. I printed it out. I still have it."

Gabriel just looked at him, then took a bite of gummy worm. They'd never been allowed to speak about their mother. When Castiel once asked Balthazar where she went, he told him that dwelling on the dead was simply indulging in pity and any indulgence over God was sinful. Balthazar promised he wouldn't tell Michael that Castiel had asked.

But she had been dead for four years before Castiel was even old enough to look around and realize that other children in books and TV had mothers. She had never been a part of his life, just a sort of dream woman Castiel didn't know. For a long time, he truly believed he simply sprang forth from the earth as some sort of alien life form with no parents at all. That, at least, had certainly explained some things.

Then he looked her up and she was beautiful. The photo was black and white, but he recognized his own eyes in her face, her dark hair against her skin was so familiar to the contrast he saw in the mirror. She had been a real person, and he'd never been allowed to know her.

Gabriel known her but had never been allowed to remember. 

"What was she like?" he asked and Gabriel started pinching the head off of a gummy worm as he spoke.

"Nothing like Dad. Kind of... soft, I suppose. She spoke quietly and she didn't ask for much. You know, I told her I was gay when I was twelve? I figured that she was the only one who wouldn't yell." Gabriel gave a small chuckle, " She didn't tell Dad or anyone and she was kinder to me. Gave me an extra hug before I went to bed. Made my favorite dessert more often than everyone else. I don't know, she never said anything because, of course she wouldn't, but I don't think she believed I was wrong or dirty or going to Hell. But... I guess I'll never know what she thought."

"Do you miss her?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I miss her a lot, actually."

"Do you miss them?"

"Yeah." Gabriel said softly, playing with the sticky candy between his thumb and forefinger.

"I don't."

"Well, it was better before she died. We were all nicer to each other." Gabriel said almost wistfully.

"What happened, Gabriel?" Cas asked, "Between you and Dean?"

"What always happens." said Gabriel, shaking his head, "Things were fine and normal and I had to do something mean, just to feel like myself. Eight months of playing make-believe in my own house. I didn't even know who I was anymore. Then I go out at night, buy a stranger a drink and... I remember what I am."

"You cheated on him." Castiel guessed. Gabriel nodded without much hesitation.

"Yeah. I did. I don't know why but, haven't you ever wanted someone, Cas? Just wanted someone to want you only for sex? Just have someone look at you and need to claim you without all the knowing each other stuff?"

"No." Castiel said plainly. He cocked his head to the side, trying to see his brother. So much older than him. Looking a little like their father, especially at the temples. "Gabriel, if Mom didn't die, do you think you'd like yourself more?"

Gabriel snorted.

"Probably not, kiddo." He said, finally eating the gummy worm and seeming almost disappointed, like it didn't taste as sweet as he remembered.

"I like the knowing stuff." Castiel said, "Sex is ok, but don't you like the idea that someone would choose you over everyone else for something besides the way you look? You think that no one else would want your other stuff. And I think it's because... maybe you don't want your other stuff."

"Something like that." Gabriel said fairly, dropping the half-full bag of worms in the trash. "And Castiel, my beautiful brother, sex should never be ok. At its worst it should still be the best thing that's ever happened to you, every time it happens."

"I'm not like you, Gabriel." Castiel said, smiling sadly and shaking his head.

"You really aren't at all. You're like her." Gabriel said, looking down at his shoes. He took another quick shot of whiskey and Castiel saw his eye momentarily shine with tears as he shifted his head. "Except maybe you have a chance to do it better. You know, I always sort of wondered why she did it. Why would she marry Dad when he could be such a... I guess jerk isn't the right word. But it's also not the _wrong_ word. He just, completely smothered all of us with his personality. Acting like he could do no wrong. He was arrogant and left absolutely no room in that house for anyone to have an opinion. His ego practically had its own room. I know exactly why he married her; she was beautiful and kind. Too kind to call him on his shit and too polite to try and talk while he was talking. And he was always fucking talking. And she married him because... I still don't know. He was the first guy who kissed her so she just decided to throw in the towel, I guess." Gabriel shook his head before he seemed to remember that Castiel was there. "Oh. Sorry, Cas."

"How did you know that Sam was my first?"

"It's just... it's obvious Cas." Gabriel shifted in his seat uncomfortably. "You've still got that virgin glow about you."

"I wasn't his first."

"That's kind of obvious too."

"He had a girlfriend. I used to worry that he would turn out to be straight after all. But, I guess he's pretty gay, after all. Gabriel, Sam was unfaithful to me and I'm not sure how to feel about it."

"You're supposed to be mad, Castiel." Gabriel said, rolling his eyes. "If you love someone you get pissed at the idea of them wanting anyone else but you."

"Ok." Castiel said, sitting back in his chair with a serious nod.

"No, you're supposed to be, like, actually mad and I'm not supposed to tell you to feel like that. Jesus, this is exhausting. It's like teaching remedial feelings and I only barely passed the class myself."

"It is. Exhausting. I... I understand that. I'm sorry, Gabriel." Castiel reached forward and took the bottle of whiskey from Gabriel, looking at it for a long minute before he took a sudden shot, wincing noticeably. "Sam is so patient with me. He forgives so many of my shortcomings. And he did only do it the once. He says it's over. A bachelor party fling he got out of his system."

"Yeah, and why would he lie about something like that?" Gabriel said dryly, taking the whiskey back from Castiel. After he took a long gulp, he paused and handed it back across the desk to his younger brother.

"You think he'll cheat again?" Castiel said flatly, unsurprised with the idea and almost at peace with it.

"No. I think he'll leave you someday for the next person just interesting enough to love. I think Sam collects love stories like other people collect stamps. Real love bores him, grass is always greener and such."

"I think you're supposed to be nicer to me right now."

"You're not a delicate little dandelion, Cas. You can't be a Novak and not be able to take a hit or two. It's in our blood, trained into us. Our childhood was practically a bootcamp. Life is shitty, marriage is bullshit and I'm not about to lie to you about that. You can marry Sam. Maybe get a good five years beneath your belt, then he's going to be with someone new and exciting who can take him around the world or shock his coworkers with at office parties. And where will you be then? You're tough enough to survive it, but you're the one who needs to decide if you want to."

"You don't know Sam like I do." Cas said. Gabriel gave a tight smile and tilted his head, conceding the point. "And you don't know me either."

"You're probably right about Sam, but Cas ... you act a lot like her, too." Gabriel said. "And, you know, I wish I could have known her as an adult. I wish I could have talked to her so that I could be the one to tell her that the first person who likes you for who you are isn't the one you need to marry. Thinking that no one else will be patient with you isn't much better than thinking that no one will want you at all."

"I'm still going to marry Sam." Castiel said. Gabriel shrugged.

"Well, if anyone could survive it, it would be you."

***

Dean wasn't used to sleeping in Gabriel's bed by himself. He wasn't used to making breakfast for one in Gabriel's kitchen and he wasn't used to showering and getting dressed and being at all productive without Gabriel's comforting clutter of sounds from around the house. Dean wasn't used to a morning without Gabriel's undisguised, wanton moans from their bed, trying to talk Dean into playing hookey and fucking all day long. Dean had never taken Gabriel up on the offer.

Now he realized he never would.

Dean wasn't used to living in Gabriel's house by himself, so he didn't try. He asked Sam to sleep over, and , surprising them both, Sam did. It was still awkward, instead of having six years worth of things to talk about, they simply had six years worth of stories that required too much outside information to even bother starting, so they didn't. They watched TV and they drank beers but they stayed together, like Dean had always wanted. It wasn't like when Dad went to the hospice and Dean was home alone, waiting for it all to end. Sam was there and Sam was being too big and hogging way too much couch, but Dean wasn't alone this time. It wasn't so bad, this time.

That being said, it was still pretty shitty.

Not in the least because Dean was excruciatingly aware that it was _Gabriel_ who was paying for the house and the food and the energy that he and Sam were burning through.

It was that Dean had planted those herbs outside the kitchen window and Dean's DVDs were all mixed in with Gabriel's. It was that Dean had gotten nice and comfy, fucking _nested_ in someplace stupid and impermanent.

Yeah it was the beginning of a new chapter in his life but it felt an awful lot like starting over. Dean had gotten a little fleshy or even, god forbid, pudgy when he voluntarily barricaded himself into Fort Gabriel, surviving off of pizza and cake. He would need to hit the gym a few times before he was ready to fall back into his gay bar routine. He wasn't sure which seemed more exhausting; the idea of working out or the idea of flirting and laying all the groundwork for a half-hearted hand job in an alley from someone he'd never see again. He didn't quite remember why he found that sort of thing hot, once.

Sam left for a job interview midday. He said he'd come back. Dean didn't even ask him to do that, but Sam said he would anyway.

About an hour after his brother left, the doorbell rang and Dean knew it could only be one person. Sure enough, when he opened the door, the serene intensity of Castiel was looking patiently back up at him, a loaf of bread in his hands.

"Hi, Castiel." Dean said, moving aside in the hallway to let the youngest Novak inside.

Cas looked nothing like Gabriel, but the longer Dean watched him, the more he saw little bits and pieces of Gabriel peeking up through. Castiel was ethereal, practically gliding everywhere, seeing everything there was to see but not looking like he understood a single minute of it. Gabriel moved the same way, too quickly and softly to be natural, but he understood the world just fine. Maybe a little too well. Both had that underlying vein of pure energy, giving Dean the distinct feeling that he was only seeing the tip of the iceberg, only a fraction of who they were and what they were thinking.

But Castiel lacked Gabriel's taint of cynicism, and he looked so unsure of himself in his brother's home.

"I brought you banana bread." Castiel said, holding the loaf out to Dean. "It's organic. And gluten free."

"Oh, ah, alright then." Dean said. Castiel clearly didn't come over just for that. "Do you want coffee or... something. We might have some tea, somewhere."

"Coffee sounds perfect, thank you." Castiel said, relief seeping out of his frame as Dean took the lead of the social situation. Being with a ball of energy like Sam probably meant that Castiel was never the one who was reaching out.

"Cream, sugar?"

"Uh, no." Castiel said. As an after thought, "Thank you."

"Sam isn't here." Dean said, cutting to the chase. A man like Castiel probably appreciated that more than most. When Dean turned, two cups of coffee in his hands, Castiel didn't seem unsettled with the suddenness of the statement. "He was here last night, though. All night."

"You know, then." Castiel guessed, taking his cup of coffee. "About Sam's infidelity."

"Yeah. I know." Dean said. "Trust me, I know how it feels, and I'm sorry, Cas." Castiel was silent for a minute, so Dean pressed, "Did you know the guy? Did Sam tell you who he was?"

"No. But I have some theories." Castiel said, turning that lighthouse watt gaze onto Dean. "It was Gabriel, wasn't it?"

"Yeah." Dean said flatly.

"I'm sorry, Dean. I'm sorry that my brother is the sort of man who couldn't love you the way you want and I'm sorry that my future husband is the sort of man who would do this." Castiel said, "I feel responsible for both of them."

"Well, stop that."

"Dean?"

"They're two fully grown men who knew exactly what they were doing." Dean shook his head before meeting Castiel's eyes and what he saw there almost made him catch his breath.

Doubt. 

There were so many things a person had to process when they looked at Castiel; his beauty, his slow roundabout communication, those eyes that were almost unsettling to meet, that Dean almost didn't see it. Castiel was unsure. And Castiel was alone with a husband who lied about a brother who was, until a day ago, virtually a stranger with a checkbook. He was waiting for someone to tell him what he should do, because, clearly, if left to his own devices, he had no idea.

"Cas." Dean said slowly, "You don't have to marry him."

"I do, though." Castiel said softly, "He loves me."

"Look, he's my brother, and I'd die for him and I still believe with all my heart that he has more good qualities than bad, but... don't do this if you're not sure." Castiel started pulling his gaze away from Dean, down to the scratches in the wood on his table. "Cas, it takes more than _love_ to make a relationship work. And... I shouldn't be the one you have this conversation with, but you need to have it with someone."

"I'm sorry, Dean. This wasn't my best idea. I think I need to go."

"Castiel, don't leave."

"No, you're right, this is completely inappropriate. If Sam comes back here, just... tell him I was looking for him or ... you'll think of something. " Castiel was standing, walking out the door too quickly for Dean to follow.

It was inappropriate. For Dean to want to help this guy, for Dean to want to tell Cas to please, for the love of God, not marry Sam. Because Sam would move on, probably faster than was tasteful. Sam would be fine without Castiel and, more importantly, Castiel might even be better off without Sam. It was completely inappropriate for Dean to want to make some sort of gesture to comfort Castiel, make him feel less alone and confused, no matter how it came about.

Dean shouldn't have wanted to tell Cas he could be something better than Sam's trophy husband silent and strong as his philandering partner came crawling back to him again and again over a lifetime. Dean shouldn't have had the insane urge for Castiel to stay, even if just for Dean to watch him. Because for all the ways that Castiel was like Gabriel stung like a blade in his gut, all the things that were purely Castiel made him want to stare in wonder.

Dean didn't move fast enough to do anything, so Castiel made it out of the kitchen and out the door.


	6. Chapter 6

A dozen, small, periwinkle colored flowers sat it overflowing bunches at the sides of the seats. The great oak tree at the end of aisle was draped elegantly in long strands of string lights, brightening the twilight ceremony. A small string quartet sat at the back, playing something gentle and smooth as Dean and the rest of the guests milled around.

After a moment of standing, Dean realized that there was no assigned seating, nothing to divide the groom's party from… the other groom's party. Everyone sat in a hodge podge mix of good intention, no doubt. But Dean's heart sank as he realized that his buffer was gone and he was swimming alone out here without a life raft. Dean moved tentatively to a seat at the front, ready to bolt at the first sign of -

Gabriel plopped himself right at Dean's elbow, already holding a flute of champagne.

"Hey, Dean-o." he said stiffly, sipping his drink and looking around with his nose wrinkled slightly, "Our brothers can throw a pretty damn gay wedding, can't they?"

"Gabriel." Dean said flatly. Gabriel took a deep sigh at the deadly silence that followed between them.

"Still pretty pissed at me, then?"

"You cheated on me." Dean snarled. "With my," Dean lowered his voice, " _brother_."

Gabriel looked annoyingly remorseless. He had the gall to roll his eyes and Dean snorted, shaking his head. Gabriel was Gabriel. Unapologetic, unrepentant and impossible to argue with. Somethings never change, and it was cute, now. Two weeks later, the wounds weren't exactly healed but Dean was pretty over the idea of getting back together. In essence, their relationship had been based off of sex and a mutual truce to not point out each other's damaged crap. But that fight had come and gone and too many things had been said for Dean to feel safe again. He'd known Gabriel could be cruel, and tolerated it since Gabriel had never before been cruel to _him_.

"I didn't ask for the house." Gabriel said and Dean's spine went rigid.

"And now you bring it up here? Classy. You're still such a selfish asshole, Gabriel."

"No, I…" Gabriel took a sip of champagne as he thought. The words seemed to come hard for the older man and Dean loved it. "I'm not going to ask for it."

"We weren't married, Gabriel." Dean said with a defeated sigh. He'd been hoping to put up a fight. This quiet surrender was kind of a dick move on Gabriel's part. Dean liked being mad. It was easier to be broken up if Dean was allowed to be mad. "You can have your house."

"We were together, Dean. That's not nothing. Besides… what am I going to do with a house when I don't have…"

"Anyone to take care of it for you?" Dean sneered, feeling stupid for every load of Gabriel's laundry he did. Every meal he cooked in that kitchen. The walls he painted. The deck he built. Turning someone else's house into his home. It was never his.

"No… without you." Gabriel said finally, and Dean snapped his head to look at him. "I don't try to settle down with just anyone.

"It didn't work out, Dean. We spent a few years breaking down each other's walls and now we're … I can't be that guy. I tried, and I just ended up wasting your time." Gabriel looked down at his expensive Italian shoes. "But I did love you pretty hard for a while there. I'll sign the title over to you. I don't want it anymore. "

"I don't want it like this, Gabriel. I'm not a charity case."

"Then you can sell it and buy a new house. I don't give a fuck."

"I don't want it like that… like alimony or some shit."

"Fuck, Dean. Knock the noble shit off for twenty minutes, alright? I'll come and get my stuff while you're at work then the house is yours to keep living in or not living in for-"

Dean opened his mouth to voice a half-thought retort when a small, nervous looking man came out, wringing his hands, standing at the end of the aisle.

"Um, Mister Novak and Mister Winchester would, um, like to thank everyone for their time and being here today." He said, "But, um…."

"Uh-oh." Gabriel said softly.

"The wedding plans for the day won't, uh, they won't be happening. Okthankyoubye."

Dean and Gabriel glanced warily at each other, the argument wholly forgotten, before they both stood out of their seats and ran to the hotel. At the lobby, they split up, Dean headed to Sam's room. Gabriel bounded up the stairs to Castiel's.

***

**One hour earlier**

When Castiel was four, the knew exactly who he was. 

Some of his kinder teachers referred to him as 'wise' or 'patient' or 'special.' But he wasn't. He was just alone, and that was how he always figured he would be. All of his siblings paired off, playing together, sharing their own secrets and games. Michael and Raphael playing catch in the front yard. Lucifer and Gabriel took that opportunity to sneak into Michael and Raphael's rooms to screw things up. Ester and Naomi holed up in their room, usually fussing over Balthazar who loved the attention and competed jealously with Rachel for the affection of the older twins. Even Uriel could be found with one little Novak clique or the other, trotting after them all in turn, inviting himself to their games.

But Castiel preferred the closet in the foyer. 

The Novak clan was not allowed to have friends outside the family, only people that they might potentially convert, so the coat closet was unused and largely forgotten. Castiel managed to make a nest there, out of his father's old raincoat and whatever books he stole from the library or his classmates. If he cracked the door just enough, he could see well enough to read without it being obvious that he was in there. 

But the best part of the closet in the foyer was that he could hear everyone he loved walking to and fro, talking loudly amongst each other, fighting more often than not. And Castiel did love them. He loved them so much when they weren't looking at him. Because they were just... themselves. And each and every one of them was perfect. Michael was strict, but he was fair. Rachel got her feelings hurt too easily, but it was only because she put too much stock in what other people thought of her, she only wanted everyone to like her as much as she liked them. 

But when they looked upon Castiel, he knew that look that clouded their eyes, because it was all the same. Pity. No one even bothered to pick on him because they all just felt so sad for their youngest brother, the one who didn't talk to anyone at school and didn't seem to know what to do with himself when he talked to them. Had their father not been the sort of man who believed that God was the cure for all men's ills, even the ones of the spirit and mind, he doubted that he would have been able to escape childhood undiagnosed with _something_. But their father just looked at his youngest son with pity, like the rest of them, and perhaps sent up an extra prayer for him.

And so, when Castiel was four, he knew who he was. He was the boy in the shadows. The wallflower.

And it was _great_.

When no one could see him, no one could pity him. And when no one was forced to alter their demeanor to suit his own, they could be themselves. Lucifer was older, but Gabriel was smarter. He nodded a lot when he let Lucifer think that he was teaching him something. Naomi and Ester talked about their mutual crush on a movie star for a film they weren't allowed to see when they didn't think their brothers could hear them. 

And so, Castiel was never lonely, because he was surrounded by those he loved without having to surround them back. 

Then Gabriel left, and it was a lot quieter. Suddenly everyone was a wallflower, silent, watching. And Castiel opened his own closet in his room to find magazines with so much flesh he actually had to look away sometimes. But he always found his way back to the smoky eyes of the men, with their legs spread, and the implication of the magazines in his hands. Gabriel had seen him, even when he was trying to be unseen.

And so when he was twelve, he realized that he wasn't the boy in the shadows anymore. He was a gay man. And he didn't have to be alone, because there were people just like him, in magazines, hell, even in his father's own house. So the men in the pages became the first men in his head, and they saw him too. They saw what he was and they touched him without him having to ask. 

He was the man in the apartment that only left to go to class or to the grocery store. People kept on looking at him when he left the house, tried to catch his eye in the elevator. They thought he was a normal guy, the kind that could make small talk. They didn't see him, and the only moments that Castiel felt lonely were the ones where someone was trying to make him less so. He skirted dinner invitations and school games because he could see the pity, even in the strangers' eyes.

Then he felt Sam's eyes on him, seeing him, for once, and without anything besides lust. And he was beautiful. And Castiel _wanted_  
to be seen by him. 

Sam had so many ideas and plans and dreams. Castiel had never thought about life after school. Probably a desk job and the sanctuary of his quiet apartment, but Sam wanted a house and a life and Castiel. He saw Castiel, and it was amusement, not pity that was in his eyes. And so Castiel loved him. And Castiel agreed to marry him.

At twenty three, Castiel knew who he was. If he was going to be a wallflower, and a gay man he wanted to be Sam's.

But then Sam started to tell him stories. And the only thing Castiel had ever loved more than the men in his head were stories. It was like watching unseen from his closet as a child, but instead of the daily squabbles of his siblings, it was castles of wizardry and great ships across the ocean. Sam had the best stories, all featuring a brother that protected him from bullies and had the best one liners. Who ended arguments and fixed Sam's bike. Castiel, added that man, noble and true, the greatest anti-hero of all Sam's memories, to the collection of his men in his mind. 

He loved Sam, but he loved that hero a little bit too. 

And then he met him, and Dean saw him. With pity and confusion and jealousy as well. Dean looked at him and Castiel felt every terrible feeling at once. But he also felt something else, something inside him that was restless and impulsive and greedy and hopeful. Someone was looking right at him, seeing all of Castiel's worst fears and most impossible dreams. A man from his head was looking back at him. Castiel wanted to be seen by him forever. 

Castiel wasn't mad at Sam for cheating. Because, after laying eyes upon the brother, Castiel knew that he had been unfaithful to Sam for their entire relationship. 

He knew now that he didn't have to be the boy in the closet or the man with the lovers in his head. He didn't have to be someone's wallflower. 

At twenty six, Castiel had no idea what he was doing.

***

Sam took the stairs up to Castiel's room two at a time. He'd had a drink of whiskey that he snuck off of Chuck when he wasn't looking and now he was finally brave enough to say that he'd fucked around with Cas' brother. Twice.

One confession to rid himself of the burden of that sin. That hot sin, pinned under him, the crunch of dried grass and the smell of Gabriel without the bar and the booze. How Gabriel was beneath him but still giving as good as he got, meeting his thrusts halfway, fingering him where to one else had ever touched. It was hot as hell, still made him stiff late at night when all the reasons he was a shitty person fell away and it was just him and that man who infuriated and challenged him in every way, but fit around him so well in that one.

He opened the door and stopped in the doorway.

Castiel looked up at him, his suitcase open on the bed, a bag of toiletries in his hand.

"You're leaving?" Sam asked. His throat was awfully dry.

"Yes." Castiel said after a moment. "You're not dressed."

"I needed to talk to you before. Were you going to tell me? Was Chuck or someone going to come to my room ten minutes before the ceremony and... and... "

"No, of course not. I was going to tell you, on my way out. I'm sorry, Sam. I don't think I can marry you."

"Can we... talk about it at all? Cas, this... this was our life. Cas, I love you."

"I love you too, Sam. That's why I can't marry you. I love you now, but I think I'd hate you one day." After a pause, Castiel added, "There is someone else."

"Gabriel." Sam said softly, "You found out it was Gabriel. God, Cas, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I didn't know at first. And then, then I did know but I..."

"Sam," Castiel said, "It isn't jealousy that is motivating this it's... I've never wanted you the way that you wanted Gabriel. Or the way that Gabriel wanted you. I don't have that kind of passion, the kind that you need to keep burning as bright as you are, as bright as you deserve to be. I had never before lusted after a person, the way you lusted after me. You have to have known that."

Sam swallowed dryly and took a seat on the bed. Castiel perched beside him, as quiet and softly as always.

"I don't want to be the man standing behind you, Sam. I love you, I want you to be happy and strong and successful in whatever you decide to do, but... I can't be your wife. And that's how I've always been to you. Please, don't," Castiel said as he saw Sam open his mouth, "I've allowed you to treat me as such because I could never be as outgoing and charming and bright as you are. I simply can't. You outshine me everyday of the week. But that doesn't mean I have to stand in your shadow, either. I love you Sam and that's why I can't be with you anymore. And I think... you need someone more like you, more like you in the ways that matter. A beautiful ball of energy that can keep up, not a soft spoken housewife to keep safe."

"Cas, no, Gabriel was nothing. It meant nothing."

"But you wanted him. And that is what's important. As long as you're with me, you'll be holding back. As long as I'm with you, I'll be in the background. That isn't where I want to be anymore and I'm sorry that it took me until the end to figure out that I have a choice."

"Cas... you always had a choice." Sam said.

"I have a choice in who I can be and how I can act and who I can want. I always thought it was programmed into me, that I was stuck the way I was, in some sort of solitary limbo. Too foreign to be loved by something human like you.

"But it was you, Sam. You and your brother that taught me that I have a choice. I can change if I want to and I think I do. I loved you, Sam. But it takes more than love to make a marriage work."

"Dean? What the hell does Dean have to do with anything?"

Castiel turned pink but didn't leave Sam's gaze.

"Everything." he said simply. "The other guy wasn't for you, Sam."

***  
 **One hour later**

Sam opened Castiel's hotel room door, looking down at Gabriel.

Gabriel, expecting his brother, had been looking at his own eye level. As his gaze travelled up Sam's chest to his throat and face, he seemed to grow more annoyed with every inch.

"What did you do to my baby brother?" He snapped.

"Come in, won't you?" Sam said, stepping aside.

"Did you eat him? Is he cut up into tiny pieces in the bathtub? Why are you even in here? You have no right."

"Oh, wow. I half expected you to not show at all. But look at you, all protective, mother-hen. I wouldn't have been surprised if you mailed him tickets for a gay cruise line, but here you are, looking ready to kick some ass. It's a good look on you."

"You're being nice. It's weird. Stop that."

"I am a nice guy, Gabriel." Gabriel gave a snort of disbelief. "Cas said he wanted to talk to Dean, so I sent him to my room. I knew that Dean would go straight there when he heard."

"What could Castiel possibly have to say to your brother? He met him once, for, like, twenty minutes of a painful dinner party."

"Sometimes that's all it takes." Sam said with a shrug.

"Are you high, or something? Why are you so... mellow?"

"Sit down, Gabriel."

"No."

"Fine. Cas and I had a talk. A long talk. Where we said things we had never said before and we reached a conclusion of sorts. It's over and I wish him well. I honestly do. I love him, but me loving him, me being around him is killing whatever that is about Castiel. He is just starting to figure out some really fundamental stuff about himself and I was crushing it."

"So you let your little butterfly be free? How uncharacteristically altruistic of you."

"I discovered some stuff about myself as well." Sam said, "Recently. And I realized that I didn't want to marry Cas. I didn't want to marry anyone. Not yet. Maybe not ever. Maybe it was spending too much time watching Dean try to make a family out of me and our father or maybe it was just some sort of hetero-normative socialization that made me want a husband and a house with a picket fence and kids. Then something happened and I stopped and looked around and really asked myself if that was all stuff I actually wanted or if that was just what I had been expected to want. I don't think I know what I want and Castiel is still figuring out who he is and it's just... bad timing. Bad chemistry. Maybe I do just want to 'collect love stories,' yeah, Castiel told me what you said. Maybe you're right. I can't ask Castiel to be the sort of man who waits for me to come back if that isn't the kind of man he is.

Something happened and my world got turned on it's head. I think you can guess what I'm talking about."

"Oh, god, you aren't in love with me, are you?" Gabriel asked, aghast.

"Oh, certainly not," Sam said with a laugh. "And that's what... that's what it was. That was a really, really good fuck."

"Thank you, but let's stay on topic, please."

"That is the topic. Gabriel, that was some of the hottest sex I ever had and I don't love you. In fact, you kind of annoy me sometimes. I never thought it could be like that with someone. I had never had sex just to fuck, I'd always done it to make love to someone I might spend the rest of my life with. What I'm saying is that I was safe, before. Making love to people I intended to keep. They were always a certain kind of person and we had things in common and similar goals and we had all drank that suburb kool-aid. I'd never met anyone like you.

"And you were the best lay I'd ever had. Makes a man reevaluate some stuff."

"Oh, shit. That's why you left my brother? I might hit you after all. You're big but I'm tougher than I look."

"Actually. He left me." Sam said.

***

"Sam?" Dean called, knocking on Sam's door. "Sam, it's me. Let me in."

There was no response.

"Hey, Sam, some dude is at the altar of your fucking Martha Stewart wedding and saying it's not happening. Let's talk it out." The door remained closed and quiet. "Hey, Sam. C'mon. We both know I can kick this mother down."

Finally the door cracked open and Dean had to lower his eyes to see Castiel's bright blues staring openly up at him. The blue was framed by swollen red lids.

"Oh, uh…" Dean said. "Uh…"

"The wedding was cancelled." Castiel said plainly.

"Right. I'll just be going to find Sam, then." Dean said awkwardly. "Sorry, and all." He finished lamely.

"Dean." Castiel said softly and Dean forced himself to breathe normally. "Would it be too much to ask if… It would be too much." Castiel suddenly decided. "I'm sorry. Yes. You'll want to be with Sam. Of course."

"No, well, yeah, but what can I do for…?"

"Would you sit with me for a minute?" Castiel asked.

Dean didn't owe anything to Sam's ex. He certainly didn't owe anything to _his_ ex's brother. But Castiel, purely Castiel, looked like he needed a friend. So Dean walked into the room, maybe to at least wait until Gabriel found them, just so Cas wasn't alone. Not finding any chairs in the room, Dean sat himself down on the bed.

"Is everything ok, Cas?" Dean asked as Castiel didn't make a move to say anything.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think so. I think I will be ok." Castiel gave a small smile. "Sam and I talked and it was... actually pretty mutual. Sam was the first man I ever loved. But... it wasn't right. He wasn't right. I wasn't right. You can love someone and not have them be the person you're supposed to be with forever. And it's going to be... ok."

"That's a... really fair thing to say, I guess. You seem pretty ok for someone who called off their wedding about an hour ago."

"Well, all this didn't happen in an hour." Castiel said, sitting on the bed beside Dean. "It started two weeks ago."

"Cas?" Dean said, a warning. Cas had sat too close, too far into Dean's personal space and an insane voice in Dean's head was making him stay still, too close for comfort.

"Sam was the first man that I ever wanted. He's not... the last."

"I need to go. Sam's my brother..." Dean said suddenly. His words sounded weak. Dean didn't stand up.

"Dean, let me say this, please. Sam was the first man that I wanted to want me. He's the first man I let touch me. He's the only man I let touch me. I'm not aggressive in that way, by nature. I assumed that was always how I was going to be. Sam never understood me, but he tolerated me and he even appreciated me, but those things are not the same as understanding. I was happy to be his, because I never thought I'd want anything else. 

"He awoke something in me, faith in a lover, perhaps. A desire to be wanted and loved, I suppose. It wasn't perfect, or even a hundred precent reciprocated, but it was enough for me to build a life off of. He wanted me, and I had finally been awake enough to appreciate that kind of desire. I assumed that was as much as I'd want to give, ever. That was my limit, my flaw, that I held back too much when I loved. I loved Sam as much as I thought I could love anyone."

"What changed?"

Castiel placed his hand on Dean's thigh.

"You."

Dean stood then, because holy fuck this was absolutely insane.

"Cas," Dean said, with a nervous sound that he would go to his grave defending as a laugh, "Dude, uh, look, so, emotions are running high. Big" Dean gestured largely around the entire hotel."Life decisions being made. You don't know what you are feeling and saying and, hey, I get sex as a way to cope, but, ah, just because Sam and Gabriel are like that... I'm not. You're not like that either, I swear. Just, uh, take a deep breath or something."

Castiel didn't seem hurt or frustrated as he sat on the bed, his hand on the place that Dean's leg had been, unashamed. He listened to Dean intently, almost too intently. Dean didn't generally think the things he said through enough to justify that kind of naked focus.

"Dean, every time I see you, I realize that I know myself less and less." Castiel said plainly, "I have no idea who I am and what I want outside of you. I used to think I hated chaos, wanted only order and discipline. Then I saw you. I don't know who I am when I'm near you, but I already like that man more than the one I thought I was before."

"That's not healthy."

"Fuck it." Castiel said with a shrug. Dean actually choked as he heard the cool and proper Castiel say that.

"You don't know me at all, Cas."

Castiel stood, now, to his full height. Without Sam looming over him, Dean realized he was actually quite tall, perhaps only an inch or so shy of Dean himself. Castiel took a step towards Dean who was, once again, held captive by that kamikaze voice in his head, rooted to the spot.

"Dean, I know that you are brave in a way that Sam never was. You stayed behind when your father was sick. You tried to keep your family together, even when they went spiraling off in different directions. You took up with Gabriel when most would be too afraid of all the damage he so readily wears on his sleeve."

"Yeah and that ended well. Great life choices on my part."

"Bravery is almost never the smart thing to do," Castiel said easily, "It flies in the face of self-preservation. My whole life, I've had nothing but self-preservation. I could use some of that intrepid spirit you have to spare. I see how Sam talks about you. I see how much Gabriel has tried to give you. It's selfish, I know, to want these things for myself. But I do, want them. I do want you. And I'd only ever wanted to be wanted before. I've never wanted to touch another the way I want to touch you, even now, even here, in the most crass and insensitive of times."

Castiel took another step forward. Dean had another opportunity to step away, and didn't.

"Cas, please, man you need to stop. You aren't thinking clearly."

"You're right, Dean. I'm not thinking clearly. For the first time in my life it's a blurry haze of feelings and desires and they're all around you. Please, Dean. Let me take this, just this one thing."

He moved slowly. Too slowly, because if Dean was going to let this happen, it had to be fast, too fast for that pesky conscience to kick in and remind him that Cas and Sam had been a single unit until about two hours ago. It needed to be before he remembered that Sam might be somewhere, completely devastated and needing his brother in his darkest hour. Sam may have fucked Dean's boyfriend and Sam may have left Dean in Kansas with their sick father, but Dean wasn't like that. He needed Cas to kiss him before he remembered why he didn't do that.

But Cas was agonizingly patient, a slow motion torpedo headed straight for Dean's sanity, leaving just enough time for Dean to run through all that in his head. Enough time for all that to cross his mind and still choose to remain motionless and wait for the inevitable blow.

Cas's lips met his, cool and chapped, mostly undemanding, simply testing the footing of the wreckage in his wake, seeing if it would accept him.

And Dean did.

He kissed Castiel back, all the heat and fire he had to throw against Castiel's ice. His hands were the ones that cupped Castiel's face in between them. He bit Castiel's lip, winning a shuddering moan from the only slightly smaller man in his arms.

"Cas, god, we shouldn't be doing this." Dean said, even as he wrapped his arms around Cas, laying his face into his neck and holding tight, like he never wanted to feel fresh air again.

"Be bad, Dean." Castiel murmured, "Be selfish, just this once. Let me touch you. Let me take you. Let me know every inch of you."

Dean tried to think of Sam, he did. He thought of Sam's disappointment at not being able to find a prom date. He thought about Sam coming home from school with a balck eye. He thought of Sam leaving because it was easier than staying. He thought of Sam on Gabriel's couch, watching TV as Dean recovered from the shock of it. Sam and Gabriel in the seat of the porsche. Sam needing a new bike because someone stole his.

Sam, for better and for worse, was every inch of Dean's life. But maybe, against logic and common sense and propriety, Castiel could be something Dean could have for himself.

"Dean," Cas said, breaking from their kiss but pressing himself up into Dean, "I need you to know that this isn't about them. I'm not trying to hurt them. I'm... trying something new."

"Ok." Dean whispered. Castiel's hands slipped beneath his coat, rubbing his back over the dress shirt. Too many buttons and too much time to waste when they were meeting each other like this. Not like two broken pieces, trying to fit together. Not the victims of adultery.

But as two men. Trying to be something new.


	7. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

"Ummm... Mr. Novak?" Came Becky's voice through his intercom.

Gabriel was on an unprecedented Tetris streak and had demanded to be left unbothered. Usually Becky listened to that sort of thing, since it meant that she was left unbothered as well to do- God knew what- on her word processor, always open and waiting in the tab behind her actual work.

"Busy, Becky." Gabriel said, silently cursing as his wavered focus meant that he hadn't lined up his 'L' shaped block properly, distorting two entire lines of bricks.

"Some guy from legal is here. He said he wanted to meet with you when you had a minute."

"Legal?" Gabriel asked, pausing his game and checking his email. Zilch. No one took Gabriel seriously enough to include him in the CC of an inter department email. "Well, tell him to come back later. Or schedule an appointment or something. I'm swamped."

"I told him that and he said he'd wait."

"Wonderful. Now, stop talking to me."

"No, he's _waiting_ " Becky almost whispered. "Here, next to my desk."

Not only was Gabriel unimportant enough to not get emails, he was hardly worth _waiting_ for.

"I told you" Becky hissed, her voice a conspiratorial whisper, "That I should get a chair out here."

"He's just standing there?"

"MMMM HMMMM." Becky hummed, louder now that finally Gabriel perceived the apparent importance of the situation. "He's very tall." She whispered again.

"Wait, does he have long Prada style hair and dimples?"

"Yes..." Becky said after a pause.

"Tell him to fuck himself."

"But..." Becky said, then her voice grew distant as she spoke away from the receiver. "...wait, sir, you can't go in there, Mr. Novak is very..."

The office door was swung open and the too tall, youngest Winchester stood in all his glory. Becky appeared at his elbow.

"Hey, Gabriel."

"Sam."

"Oh, you guys know each other?" Becky asked, looking between them before a light dawned in her eyes. "Oh. Oh." She nodded very seriously, "I got it, I'll see that you aren't... disturbed."

With that, Becky, also known in Gabriel's mind as the witness, left the office.

"Nice girl." Sam said, watching Becky retreat with a knowing smile playing on her lips.

"What are you doing here, Sam?" Gabriel asked, closing his game of Tetris and turning his full attention to Sam. After a moment he took in the suit, well tailored, dark blue and fitting him criminally. Twenty seven and gorgeous with it, Gabriel had a hard time remembering that it had once fit in his porsche. It had once been between his legs, sucking his cock. It had once ruined everything, or simply been the single symptom that unearthed the tumor.

"I got a job," Sam said. Gabriel lifted an eyebrow, "Here. Across the hall from you guys. I haven't taken it yet... but... well, this is the biggest company in Lawrence. And I wanted to stay close to Dean and Cas."

"You and Castiel back together?" Gabriel asked, real surprise in his voice. He hadn't seen his brother for a while, a little ashamed to have been caught out as the one of Sam's affair. Innocent and odd little Castiel sitting at home while Gabriel and Sam rolled around in the dried grass. Even Gabriel didn't like how that looked, so he didn't look at all, a well practiced strategy.

"Ah, no. Not Dean -comma- and Cas. Dean and Cas. As in-"

"Oh. Well. Good for them, then." Gabriel said, faintly amused. His smile widened at Sam's tight expression, "Serves us right, doesn't it? Well, I think they'll be good for each other."

"You only think they'll be good for each other because _we're_ not in the equation at all."

"Perhaps." Gabriel said. He finally pointed to the seat opposite his desk and Sam slipped into it, too graceful to be fair. Gabriel's eyes watched him unbutton his jacket as he sat, and stayed on the crisp white shirt as it was revealed. He had never seen Sam naked, all that golden skin was covered in their hurried encounters. That seemed like the most important fact of the world right now. Sam cleared his throat and Gabriel looked back up at him, unashamed of his roaming gaze.

"That's what I wanted to talk about, actually. I haven't taken the job yet," Sam said crossing his leg casually, "I wanted to talk to you before we started working so closely together."

"Only geographically," Gabriel countered, "You're legal. I'm data processing. We'd never see each other, really."

"I don't know about that, Gabriel. Elevator rides. Late nights at the office. Christmas parties."

"Are you saying this because you want to avoid me, or because you want me to find you all those times?" Gabriel smirked, a dangerous curve of his lips, "Want me to wander into your office like a moth to the flame late at night, when everyone's gone and no one to hear us? Corner you in a stairwell under some mistletoe when you're just drunk enough to blame it on anything besides yourself?"

"I mean, I just wanted to know, how you'd feel, working so closely." Sam said, a growl on the edge of his voice. "After everything. Now that the dust has settled and our brothers are alright, we are allowed be together, and wasn't that the thrill of it all? That it was naughty and wrong and oh, so dirty. I mean, it's not really hot anymore, is it?"

"I guess not." Gabriel sighed theatrically.

"But... we should probably know for certain, right?"

"Stand up, Sam." Gabriel ordered, getting up from his desk and buttoning his own suit jacket. He adjusted his tie and his cuffs. By the time he looked back up, Sam was standing, staring down at him.

Waiting for Gabriel to tell him what to do next.

"Get naked, Sam." Gabriel said cooly, "And get on my desk."

Sam hastened to obey, dropping his expensive suit, his unwrinkled shirt to the floor like they were nothing. God, he was just as beautiful as Gabriel had imagined, his bronzed body sculpted from hours at the gym, becoming perfect, just because. He started scooting backwards onto the surface of the desk, when Gabriel made a 'tsk' sound. When Sam looked back up, Gabriel was turning his finger in the air, the universal symbol to turn around.

To both of their surprise, Sam did, bending over the desk and spreading his legs. Gabriel managed an appreciative 'oh, fuck.' before he reached forward, sliding a hand down Sam's broad back. Sam keened in surprise as Gabriel's lips touched between his shoulders, rolling his spine and canting his hips upward.

"Wait," Sam whispered. Gabriel dropped to his knees behind him, and Sam's breath sped up, his knuckles whitening on the desk. "Your girl. Your assistant. Does the door lock?"

"No," Gabriel said lazily, spreading Sam's cheeks. "But you don't need to worry. Think of Becky as a gay sex guardian angel. Trust me, she knew exactly what we were going to be doing in here." Gabriel leaned forward, running his tongue in a fast, kittenish swipe against Sam's entrance. The large man's entire body shuddered. "She would die before she lets anyone interrupt."

"That's weird." Sam said, but it was softer as he was speaking into the pile of papers on Gabriel's desk.

"Oh, trust me Sam." Gabriel said, unbuckling his belt, "That's just the beginning of how weird it's going to get in here."

***

**Five Years Later**

"Dean." Castiel intoned. Dean hugged his pillow tighter, pretending to be asleep just a little while longer. "Dean" Castiel said again, rubbing his hand over his back. "Dean, it's Christmas morning, he won't let us sleep in much longer. He's going to make a bee line for the presents and if we aren't there... he'll open all of them."

Dean was finding it impossibly difficult to care if they came downstairs to find their four year old son in a snow pile of wrapping paper and boxes. He snuggled stubbornly deeper into the covers.

"Sam and Gabriel brought their presents over last night," Castiel reminded him, "So we could open them as a family. Gabriel. Brought presents. Gabriel."

"Ugh, there's going to be a dildo, isn't there?"

"If the past few Christmases have been any sort of indicator, then yes, probably. And while I agree that Samandriel is quite mature for his age, that isn't exactly a conversation he needs to hear just yet."

"Ok, I'm up, I'm up."

"Good." Castiel said, rolling over to go back to sleep.

"Whoa, mister." Dean said, but there wasn't any bite behind his tone. He ran his hand down Castiel's pale silhouette and tried to roll him onto his back. "Just what do you think you're doing?"

"I think my Christmas present should be being allowed to sleep in." Castiel said seriously, but complacently letting Dean lay him out, running his hands over Castiel's arms and pinning his wrists lightly over his head.

"And my present?" Dean breathed, his mouth only centimeters from Castiel's collarbone.

"I was going to give it to you later. Tonight."

Dean hummed in appreciation, moving his mouth down to Castiel's chest.

There was a small crash from downstairs.

"Tonight," Castiel promised again. Dean groaned and got up. Castiel smugly rolled into his warm spot and friggen purred. Dean would be annoyed if he was capable of being annoyed with Castiel at all.

The lights in the kitchen were already on and Dean was surprised to find his son sitting quietly with a cup of hot chocolate in his hand, his short legs swinging under the table. At the counter stood Gabriel, tired looking, but holding sugar, so Dean knew from experience that things were looking up.

Gabriel grunted his greeting while Samandriel shouted 'MERRY CHRISTMAS' loud enough to make Gabriel wince.

"Well," Dean said, planting a kiss on Samandriel's sleep mussed head, "Merry Christmas right back at 'cha. Gabriel. Good morning."

"Your little terror caught me on the way to the bathroom." Gabriel explained. Samandriel beamed proudly.

"Uncle Sam and Uncle Gabriel had a sleep over in Sam's room again last night." the four year old declared.

Dean raised his eyebrows while Gabriel reached over and ruffled his nephew's hair. Dean didn't know why they bothered insisting that they both get their own space when, by midnight on the first night of any holiday; Thanksgiving, Easter, Christmas, Sam and Gabriel wound up locked in one room, coming downstairs the next morning; loose limbed and unrested.

"I see." Dean said, turning back to Samadriel, "And who made you hot chocolate with... eight marshmallows?"

Samandriel looked to Gabriel who put a finger over his lips and winked, making Samandriel puff up with the importance of their secret.

"Hey, Dean, didn't expect you up so early." Sam said, rounding the corner, much to the delighted squeal of Samandriel. Sam kissed his nephew on the head before roughing Gabriel's hair on the way to the coffee pot.

"Jesus, you two, get a room." Dean mumbled, taking the mug that Sam handed him.

They both scoffed admirably, avoiding each other's eyes.

Breakfast was a moderately enjoyable affair, at least for Samandriel and Gabriel as it consisted of doughnuts and cinnamon rolls. Sam wrinkled his nose at the sugar and simple carbohydrates but at least ate his kale in silence. Castiel managed to stumble downstairs and instead of greeting his other father, Samadriel sprinted past all the adults now that there was no longer an excuse to not open presents.

As was expected, the most expensive presents from the shopping list came from his uncles. A miniature Jeep from Gabriel and a small, handheld computer from Sam who watched nervously as the four year old pounded onto the touch screen. Castiel fell into the crook of Dean's arm as they watched their brothers and their son move on from violent rounds of fruit ninja to driving the Jeep around the back yard, Sam chasing Samandriel, trying to prevent inevitable crashes while Gabriel cheered the little guy on.

The day passed in bouts of eating, laughing and napping at least for Samandriel and Gabriel whose combined sugar highs seemed to crash at the exact same moment, both passing out on the couch not fifteen minutes into The Grinch.

After a store-bought Christmas breakfast, Sam insisted on cooking dinner and Dean only agreed because he didn't see Sam try to sneak in a Tofurkey like he did the year before. Dean tapped his brother on the shoulder as he entered the kitchen, Sam smiled as he looked over, his forearms covered with stubborn stuffing residue and grass stains on his jeans.

"Do you ever want it?" Dean eventually asked, gesturing around his house, his kid, the husband that was almost Sam's for such a long time.

Sam looked down at the food in his hands and shrugged, smiling that Sam smile he generally did so well. The one before middle school when Sam was at his chubbiest. The one before Stanford when Sam was busy trying so hard to be anyone besides Dean and their father. The smile that Dean hadn't begun to see until two months after breaking it off with Cas. It was wide, dimples on full stun ray, and eyes crinkling up at the corner. It was Sam, uncool, nerd status, wonderful little brother, not bogged down with the idea of being a freak or an outcast. Just Sam being Sam.

"Nah." Sam said, "I mean, this is awesome, I love seeing the little guy, but, I like my life too. I mean, I used to think I wanted those things, but I'm kind of over it. It's not... it's not who I am anymore. I like my life, Dean. Sleeping on my own. Doing what I want. Independence works for me, I feel like I'm just figuring it out."

"So, you and Gabriel aren't anywhere near changing your facebook status, then?"

Sam laughed and rolled his eyes, looking to where Gabriel and a four year old were asleep after a mutual Christmas haze of toys and candy.

"I think I need to wait for Gabriel to grow up a little bit first." Sam said, "But he gets me. In all the worst ways and all the best ways. I may never be like you, Dean. No house in the suburbs. No kids in the yard. No one to wake up to. But maybe I don't want that stuff. I don't think Gabriel does either. I may spend my life going to bed with him and waking up alone and, that's not so bad. I'm alone, but I'm not lonely. I'm happy. That's good enough for me."

"It's all I ever wanted for you, Sammy." Dean said, clapping his hand on his brother's shoulder.

Castiel walked into the living room, turning off the TV and taking the half full glass of eggnog from Gabriel's sleeping hand. Turning, he ran a hand through his son's hair, Samandriel shifted in his sleep, rolling over on the couch. 

When Dean looked over at his brother, he saw Sam watching him. 

"A family." Sam concluded, his eyes all warm and fuzzy, "You finally got one. This is all I ever wanted for you too, Dean."

*fin*


End file.
